#anyway people are like flowers they bloom in their own time

[mercymaker]

also re: my last post

my therapy is not going well. like. it's going terribly. the past couple of times i'd leave more upset/frustrated than before the session and it got to the point where i started bracing myself before i'd even leave the house.

i spent half a year waiting to even see someone, to end up here. i stuck to therapy and the whole 'slow progress one step at a time' shtick for months because i wanted to get better. so so bad. even when i'd feel like i'm not moving forward, i'd try to convince myself that change takes time. i'd listen to my therapist and trust that she knows better. and now, almost a year later, i realize that i'm right where i started. nothing's changed. and my best case scenario would be to try again. to wait. find someone else. and i'm just... tired.

[kiwriteswords]

Florally Inappropriate [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.3k|| AN: Florist!Reader is making me miss my days as a florist! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, established relationship, secret relationship, flirty!reader, bold!reader, sassy!reader, reader kinda has acts of service/gift-giving love language, sexual theme (if you squint), teasing BAU members, The BAU giving Hotch SHIT. Summary: Aaron Hotchner is not a man who treats himself, but when he begins dating a florist, you make sure he knows what it's like to be doted on...and the team slowly catches on.

Dating Aaron Hotchner had always been quiet by necessity.

Subtle glances. Brushed fingertips. A softness only shared in private.

He didn’t like attention. Didn’t like being fussed over.

But you liked taking care of people. 

And he’d accidentally made the mistake of falling for someone who loved to dote.

So, naturally, you made it your mission to turn him into something he never asked to be:

A flower guy.

Not for others—

He’d already mastered that.

You’d heard all the stories by now: the bouquet traditions with Haley, the subtle elegance he insisted on for gifts, the ways he used flowers like quiet punctuation in the lives of the people he cared about.

But when it came to himself? His own space? His own peace?

Not once.

“A vase of fresh flowers,” you’d said once, teasing him as he stirred sugar into your coffee at your shop. “Just for you. No occasion. No apology. Nothing to prove. Imagine that.”

He had rolled his eyes, but not unkindly.

“Not really my thing.”

You smiled. “That’s what you think.”

So you took it as a challenge.

It started the first time he called you late one night from the tarmac, exhaustion in his voice and a subtle softness you now recognized as I miss you.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” he said, voice low over the hum of the jet engines. “Can’t wait to see you.”

You hummed a quiet, “I can’t wait to see you too,” already flipping open your planner to jot down the return date.

And then the next morning, with a smirk and a plan, you pulled one of your smaller house arrangements—crisp white anemones, soft lavender sprigs, dusty miller—and walked it over to Quantico. You didn’t even try to get upstairs. You already knew the drill.

Security didn’t question you. 

You were the flower shop girl with the kind eyes and security clearance just shy of trustworthy. They took the vase from you, promised it would be placed on his desk.

The next time, it was something different. Warmer. Whimsical. Ranunculus and chamomile. You tucked in a note that said:  

“Fresh blooms for your fresh start (aka post-case paperwork hell). You’ve got this, Mister Tall-Dark-and-Tired.”

Just your handwriting, which he’d definitely memorized by now.

And it became a ritual.

Every time he let you know he was coming home, you delivered a new arrangement to his office. Always tasteful, always different. Sometimes elegant—simple roses and clean lines. 

Sometimes soft and romantic—pale blush peonies, trailing jasmine, a note that read: 

“For when you miss holding me in your arms. These won’t talk back, but they also don’t smell as good as I do.”

And sometimes just… you.

“Here’s something cheerful in case the world is being insufferable again.”

He’d show up at your door later, late and exhausted, but with that rare smile—

That real one. The one that crackedthrough his armor and made you feel like something inside him had bloomed just for you.

He’d step inside, slide his arms around you, press his mouth to your neck, and murmur, “You really don’t have to keep doing that.”

And you’d say, every time, “I know.”

And then do it again anyway.

Because if anyone deserved a small piece of peace—of beauty—it was Aaron Hotchner.

Even if he’d never pick flowers for himself.

And it started innocently enough.

A vase of flowers on Hotch’s desk wasn’t exactly out of place. He was a thoughtful guy. The team had seen him organize flower deliveries for others before—

Memorials, birthdays, even that one time when Penelope had a “bad vibe” week and he sent her peonies from Gideon.

So when they first noticed a small vase on his desk—a clean arrangement of white tulips and baby’s breath—no one thought much of it.

Until it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always different flowers. Always perfectly arranged. Always with a small card tucked into the side.

The first time, Emily made a passing comment while grabbing a file. “Nice centerpiece, Hotch. Didn’t peg you for a soft bloom guy.”

He didn’t even look up. “Gift.”

From who? she wanted to ask. But he was already mid-profile, and she figured maybe Jack’s teacher or Jess sent something. Whatever.

But by week four, when another bouquet—this time sunflowers and eucalyptus—appeared in his office with a small envelope and zero explanation, the curiosity officially became a thing.

Morgan was the first one bold enough to poke the bear.

He leaned in Hotch’s doorway, arms crossed. “You, uh…got a secret admirer, or is this part of your new mindfulness routine?”

Hotch didn’t even flinch. “Flowers improve workplace morale.”

Reid, walking past, chimed in without looking up from his tablet: “That’s actually true. Studies show that the presence of plants and flowers can reduce stress and increase productivity in office environments.”

Morgan raised a brow. “So you’re saying Hotch here is just…a flower guy now?”

Hotch flipped a page in his report. “Apparently.”

But it was Penelope who finally cracked the code.

Or, at least, peeked into the vault.

She was walking past his office on her way to the breakroom when the newest delivery caught her eye—

Velvety purple calla lilies and dark greenery. 

Very moody romance vibes. 

She stopped, admired it, and then saw the card tucked in.

And, of course, she read it.

She gasped so dramatically, it startled Reid halfway out of his chair.

“Oh. My. God.”

Morgan leaned over the back of JJ’s desk. “What?”

“Hotch has a lover. A secret lover. A saucy secret lover.”

Reid blinked. “How do you know it’s…saucy?”

Penelope held up the small card like it was evidence in court. “‘If you’re reading this before taking your tie off, just know I’m already thinking about undoing it with my teeth.’”

JJ choked on her coffee.

Morgan barked out a laugh so loud, Hotch’s office door creaked open.

He stepped out, perfectly stoic. “Something wrong?”

Penelope froze, the card still dangling from her fingers like a loaded weapon.

“Nothing!” she squeaked. “Just… admiring your very professional workplace foliage.”

Hotch walked calmly to her, plucked the note from her hands with two fingers, and returned to his office without a word.

Door shut.

Silence.

Then:

“Oh my god,” JJ whispered. “Who is she?”

“She’s bold, that’s for sure,” Emily said, now seated at her desk, clearly invested. “I like her.”

Reid blinked. “He has a…romantic partner?”

“Clearly,” Penelope said, fanning herself. “And clearly, she knows what she’s doing.”

“I bet it’s the cute florist,” Morgan said suddenly. “That case I stayed back for, I saw her delivering something at the receptionist downstairs.”

Everyone turned.

JJ narrowed her eyes. “What florist?” The gears began turning in her head. She’d almost forgotten. 

He shrugged. “You remember a few months ago? You said you set Hotch up with someone to help with a flower arrangement?”

JJ paused. Blinked. “No way.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, JJ. Did you set him up with a flower shop femme fatale?”

Penelope nodded slowly. “Makes sense. She’s got the access, the handwriting, the aesthetic.”

Reid, slightly concerned: “Should we be… teasing him about this?”

JJ smiled, sipping her coffee. “Only if you want to die.”

Morgan laughed. “You’re just mad you didn’t call it.”

Emily leaned back in her chair. “I’m not saying we stake out the next flower delivery. But I am saying if she starts sending him candles, I need to meet this woman.”

“I knew she’d be good for him,” JJ said with a sigh, wishing she pushed the two of you together sooner. 

Meanwhile, inside his office, Hotch sat at his desk, reading the note again.

His lips twitched just slightly at the corner.

 He didn’t even care they’d seen it.

Because later, when he got home, you would pretend not to know what they were talking about, wrap your arms around him, and ask, “Did my flowers brighten up your scary little office today?”

And he’d murmur against your skin, “They did. But I think your note is what caused the real chaos.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy

[kjhbsies]

Cool About It

navigation | main masterlist | rules

James Potter x reader

synopsis: Y/N never meant to fall for James Potter— it just happened. But she always knew where his heart truly belonged: with Lily Evans.

wordcount: 1,328

note: angst, angst, angst. Inspired by the song "Cool About It" by boygenius. one of my favorite songs to listen to.

part II: Multo

divider from @enchanthings

Y/n didn't expect this to happen. She never planned on falling in love with James Potter, but somehow, it happened anyway.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it was written in the stars— like a cruel storyline at her expense. But can you blame her? James was the kind of person who burned bright— warm, radiant, and impossible to ignore. Every time he walked into a room, the whole place seemed to be a little more alive. His laughter was infectious, his presence magnetic, and his smile? Don't even get her started on his smile.

He was kind in a way that made people feel seen and important. Special.

And maybe, for a while, Y/n thought she was special, too. But she wasn't. Not in a way that Lily Evans was.

She stood behind a thick trunk of an old oak tree, hidden in the shadows, watching the scene unfold before her like a spectator to her own heartbreak.

James and Lily sat on the bench, their bodies angled towards each other as if the rest of the world had faded away. He was grinning at her, that lopsided, charming smile of his that he saved just for her. And for once, Lily wasn't pushing him away. Her green eyes were soft, and the small twitch of her lips was a dead giveaway that she clearly was enjoying this.

Y/n watched as he scooted closer, his confidence unwavering— and possibly spiking higher each passing second that Lily wasn't blatantly rejecting him. James lifted an arm, testing the waters, but this time— this time, Lily was letting him. She didn't roll her eyes. She wasn't pushing him. She just blushed, her rosy cheeks dusting a tint of pink like a soft flower blooming under the sunlight.

Y/n felt something inside her crack.

She knew James had loved Lily since the first time he laid his eyes on her. She saw how James spent the past 6 years of his life making grand gestures, confessing his undying love for her, only to be shut down every single time. And still, he never stopped. He waited. He changed. He became a better version of himself, all for her.

How can Y/n compare to that?

The answer is that she couldn't.

She had known that James Potter was never meant to be hers. That they were just friends. That he only ever saw her as his best mate, his partner-in-crime, the one he laughed with, joked with, and shared secrets with�� but never loved. Not in a way that she wanted him to.

And yet, she had fallen for him.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from falling from her eyes. It wasn't enough to dull the ache in her chest, the sharp, gnawing feeling of knowing she would never be the one he looked at like that.

She didn't even realize she was crying until a warm hand suddenly covered her eyes, blocking her view of the gut-wrenching scene in front of her.

"Don't do this to yourself," Remus murmured.

The gentle one. The observant one. The one who probably had seen it coming before she even did.

His fingers were warm against her skin, shielding her from the image of James and Lily together, but it was too late. It had already burned into her memory, imprinted to her soul like a scar that wouldn't fade.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, but the moment Remus dropped his hand, she turned, burying her face into his chest as the first sob broke free. Remus hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around her, holding her close, his touch careful but firm.

"It's okay," He whispered. "It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

But it wasn't okay. It was never going to be okay.

Because no matter how hard she pushed it down, not matter how hard she fought against it, she was in love with James Potter.

The night was colder than usual for summer. A chilly breeze rolled through the cobblestone streets, sending goosebumps crawling through Y/n's arms. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, keeping her head slightly bowed, eyes trained at the ground as she walked.

She didn't want this. She had tried every excuse she could think of to get out of walking home with James. She said she was fine. She said she had something else to do. Even Remus had stepped in, offering to take her instead, but James had simply glared at him— a sharp, uncharacteristic gleam in his hazel eyes.

Remus had exchanged a knowing glance with Y/n, one that didn't go unnoticed by James. And maybe for a second, just a fleeting moment, he felt something strange stirring in his chest. A weird, uncomfortable feeling he couldn't quite place. But he immediately shook it off before it could even linger.

So now, here they are.

James walked beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He was energetic, as usual, narrating a story gleefully. He didn't even seem to notice how Y/n kept a distance, how she barely responded, how she was quieter than usual.

"—And I swear, it's the best video game I've ever played in months. You'll love it. Well, actually, you'd probably think it's a waste of time, but it's not. You should come over to my place sometime, and I'll show you."

Y/n only let out a small hum but didn't respond.

James didn't notice. Or if he did, he ignored it. He continued, his voice animated, hands gesturing now as he talked.

"And Mum and Dad got another dog. That's three now, can you believe it? A bloody zoo, our house is. But you'd love this one. He's kind of short and chubby, but in a cute way. I'll ask for his picture later, and I will send it to you."

Another hum.

James finally glanced at her, his brows furrowing slightly. His smile wavered just for a second before he plastered it back on.

"Oi, are you even listening?" He lightly nudged her.

Y/n blinked, finally snapping out of her thoughts. She put on a forced smile. "Yeah, of course. A new dog. Sounds nice."

James leaned in at her and squinted, unconvinced. His gaze flickered over hers like he was trying to read her mind.

"You sure you're alright? You've barely said anything. Is it because I didn't let Moony walk you home? Because, come on, I know he's your favorite and all, but I can be just as—"

Y/n cut him off with a small laugh. "James, come on. I'm fine, really."

"...Really?"

"Yes," Y/n let out a small huff. "How's your date with Lily, by the way?" She asked, completely diverting the topic. She tried to sound casual, light, like the words didn't burn a bitterness in her tongue.

James perked up instantly, eyes lightening at the mention of Lily's name. He ran a hand through his thick, messy curls, grinning in that boyish, lovesick way.

"Oh, it was brilliant. We went to this little cafe near her house. She loves their tea there, you know? I always thought she was more of a coffee type of person, but nah, apparently, she loves a good chamomile."

Y/n nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. "That's nice."

"And get this. She actually laughed at my joke this time. Do you know how rare that is? She never thinks I'm funny. But she laughed this time, like a genuine, real laugh."

"That's great."

James sighed dreamily. "Yeah, yeah it was."

And Y/N just nodded along, pretending like her heart wasn’t aching, like every word wasn’t a knife twisting in her chest. Pretending like it didn’t hurt to hear him talk about Lily the way she wished he’d talk about her.

She looked straight ahead, her steps steady, her expression neutral, willing herself not to break.

Because she had to be okay about it.

©kjhbsies

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

summary: The reader is Aemond’s new bride, a match fixed some time before Viserys’s death. Daemon’s daughter through Lady Royce navigates through a difficult now into a new chapter of being married to the one eyed prince, council and war.

warnings: daemon being an awful dad, Luke’s death, attachment issues, angst, slow burn, arranged marriage

word count: 5.1k

Part 1. Part 2

-

Worlds changed, dragons spew fire, flowers burnt and flowers bloomed, children born and doomed. Y/n, Daemon Targeryn’s first born through Lady Rhea Royce. A child he had despised ever since her birth, just an extension for his hatred towards Lady Royce in the first place. He could never stand her, having been forced to his duties he hated her even more. He was never around for the aftermath of anything, the rogue prince who knew no bounds. The child wasn’t even half a year old when he mercilessly put an end to Lady Royce. The ‘accident’ left the child at the kindness of pitiful wet nurses and the castle staff.

King Viserys however couldn’t stand such tragedy over and over, he generally refrained from interfering his brother’s life. He did regret his decision of marrying daemon to someone against his will but he could not have anticipated such a harsh counter reaction via Daemon. Especially after the babe, Viserys thought the child could perhaps soften the coldness of their relations but it only got worse. The king wished to seek some atonement at least for the sake of the child. Y/n, the princess, away at the grasslands of Runestone. He arranged for her to live at the red keep, a motherless child with an absent father would do better within her present family. The King’s children through alicent were mere babies themselves. The maids, the kind Queen herself, would do well to look after the infant. After all the red keep was her house just as much as it was Daemon’s despite his grievance towards it. Her dragon too was well looked after through the keeps instead of Runestone staff. Her dragon was just a hatchling as y/n too was a baby herself.

Alicent, younger at the time. The keep’s staff, mastered in squalling babies and fussy infants. Y/n wasn’t a bother at all. Not that she were to remember but Queen alicent was kinder to her than the fates had been, she nursed her like one of her own. Such fondness and softness towards daughters, it was nice enough. At least for a while. Y/n was six by the time daemon had come for Rhaenyra’s wedding, then off with Laena. No familiarity between the six year old y/n and her father. Too young to understand her family setting and Daemon still rancour.

Daemon had two daughters with the driftmark princess, viserys deemed him capable enough to raise y/n then. He decided to send little y/n back to her father, viserys wanted his brother to accept his daughter. Alicent had a smaller voice at that time yet she tried to reason with her husband to let y/n be at the keep. Daemon had to accept his brother’s whim anyways so he did. Viserys was as relieved as Alicent was anxious that y/n was in Pentos. King made the decision in good faith, if only he put a bit more distrust in daemon than he did trust. Daemon was still the same, y/n, still a child and he did nothing to make her feel included or at home. She learnt to keep to herself how she had seen Haelena do. Still quite young to comprehend where all such distaste came from, all these different people, different land. She longed to call a place home, her memories of the red keep, Alicent, the others it kept fading because she was but a baby back then. Her father wouldn’t teach y/n how to ride on dragon back how he did with her half sisters. But y/n had taught it to herself. Watching she learnt, she didn’t have to be told explicitly what to do. She fell a lot, on her face and back but she learnt anyways.

As years passed nothing changed between y/n and her father, her half sisters were company enough time to time but she was always in their orbit and not as close. All until Driftmark, they lost lady Laena. Y/n was in her early teens and she tried to be there for Baela and Rhaena. She stood by their side through their mother’s funeral. She understood the gravity of such tragedy, she lived with that grief all her life for her mother who was a stranger she never even met. But she mourned her longer than she’d known her.

Reunited with Alicent, gaining a distasteful look from Daemon. “You’ve grown so much” Alicent remarked as she pulled the girl into her embrace. Both of them looked so much different from when they last met each other. The girl had distant memory of the queen but her warmth was nicer than she had known anyone else’s. Despite the occasion alicent was brought some peace of mind seeing Y/n, she didn’t look her best but at least not the worst. She didn’t have to ask y/n to know if Daemon spoke to her, if she felt at home. She reintroduced y/n to her children, some of them y/n didn’t even remember through faces if not for name.

“She was such a small babe.” Helaena commented as she greeted the young girl. It had been years since Helaena had seen her. Aegon and Aemond just stood with disinterest, Aemond trying to mask it otherwise regardless.

After the tragedy that was which followed Laena’s death upon the nightfall of her funeral. Aemond’s eye was taken and it was a rather gruesome unfolding. A night which left a permanent distance between families. A mark which shaped Aemond for years to come.

As the years followed, dragonstone proved to be just as dreary and awfully lonely for y/n. None of her half siblings were her own or ever treated her as such, unsolicited kindness was all she would get here and there and she had accepted surviving it. Thinking of lives far away, a place where life would begin. But it was perhaps never. As King Viserys’s health worsened the queen and hand took matters into their own hands bit by bit.

The queen, declared that it is but the king’s wish for Aemond to be married with y/n, Daemon’s firstborn. Viserys was asked about it, surely, his decision was firm and wearily elated about the marriage so what does it matter who pitched the thought as long as the king agreed. Aemond was agitated. He did not want it, at all. For the ever present and abiding Aemond he had a rift with the thought of marriage to y/n. But he kept his shortcomings to himself.

Even more so mortified was y/n, she didn’t remember how exactly was her childhood at the red keep but she did recall that ever since driftmark, that family would surely not have a soft heart for her. “Father please don’t-please don’t make me do this” she pleaded Daemon.

“It is the King, my brother’s wish.” Daemon said in a disregard of her wish, surprisingly he was fine with his brother’s second hand wish too. Daemon was aware that the Hightower queen and Otto is who pulled all the strings and his brother was a bed ridden king but this was a decision in his favour as long as he could be rid of y/n.

“You cannot marry me off like this!” She exclaimed, for someone who rarely expressed thoughts to daemon. Something she learnt in all those years with being met with cold shoulder all of life, she had to fight for her life as of now. “Not to Aemond, please father please, I do not know any of them-“

“You do. You have spent most of your childhood at the hip of that Hightower queen you will be just fine.” Daemon scoffed with a bit of condescension in his voice. Indifference as he referred to Alicent.

“I do not remember them” y/n tried to reason, any wet nurse could show sympathy to a high born motherless child she did not account to be in a marriage with that sympathy at this stage in her life. “They are complete strangers, father, please I will stay wherever you ask please don’t marry me off!”

“You are of age, y/n. This is a fitting decision for you!” He exclaimed with growing irritation at this conversation, daemon never paid mind to her moreover chose not to and hence he had expected her to show nothing but compliance.

“For me or for you?” She asked with a bitter huff looking away from her father already losing hope in this conversation, she couldn’t stomach this decision without letting him know her repulsion of it. “You are so eager to wash your hands off of me as if I have ever wronged you, all my life, I’ve never asked for anything-“

“Haven’t you?!” Daemon said loudly, his rage visible in his tone “The fact that you exist is asking too much of me as it is. You are an awful reminder and a mistake. I have been subjected to duty and honour and it is only fair if you are too. It is your duty, if not to me then to the King.” With that the door was slammed as the rogue prince walked out, an ironic vision of her life.

A bitter goodbye and an uncertain life with little to no hope y/n was set for the red keep, glancing back at dragonstone for one last time. She didn’t know if she held any homely softness for that place in her heart but she presumed the life which awaited her would be more dreary than the stone.

The wedding was an intimate affair, a small ceremony but still a lot of strangers y/n had never seen. Daemon refrained from attending but it was no surprise. She was met with warmth and affection from her mother in law and her family but not her husband to be, they were all a strange set of people down here in the south from the maids to the king himself who didn’t even sit on the throne yet made decisions.

Even the most beautiful flowers would wither away at the heavy heart of the new bride of new title, the princess. She couldn’t stand her person she was becoming or moreover the mere idea of what she had to be. Aemond wouldn’t even share the same bad as her, almost every night for the first week. He’d rather sleep on the sofa or some nights he’d just never return from wherever he wandered off to.

Barely getting the grasp of it, small domestic solaces just everytime she was with Halena and her mother in law, tending to her niece and nephew. The only time she felt less alone but she was familiar with the loneliness, that wasn’t the problem. It was the nerve wrecking confusion and uncertainty that followed after, eating her alive every night that she would lay. Within strangers now, she felt a stranger to herself too.

Days passed, circumstances arose: the king fell. Aegon was declared the king, a restless unease of an upcoming war. The hand’s very first decision was passing daemon’s seat on the council to y/n. “What?” She asked wide eyed as the hand and queen pitched it to her. “Why, me? I’m not even that learned…” she trailed off.

“You spend most of your time in the library, you happen to have a knack for reading. I’m assuming you can write too?” Otto questioned, if more number of people on the council were his own to mould and speak for the rule would be so much easier.

“Yes but just letters and scrolls..” she trailed off with a sigh, it was rather strange they would approach her for something as important as the council in the first place.

“We need sharp mind of a soft heart on the council.” Alicent said as she caressed her daughter in law’s cheek, with a smile to put some confidence in her. Despite her father’s motives of having y/n on the council, Alicent believed y/n would prove to be rather fruitful and genuine.

“It is also your birthright, through your father’s seat on King Viserys’s council. It is only right if you were to be a part of it.” Otto added in an encouraging manner. The pieces were being set already, as the blacks were processing their own steps.

They had Aemond set to go meet lord Dorros the very next morrow, with a bribe of the crown’s coin and loyalty. The forces set, Aegon’s coronation done. Just one last afternoon council left. Aegon, riding the high of his coronation wasn’t present in this one.

Everyone took their respective seats, it was an eventful morning’s slow afternoon. The coronation was as eventful as it was unpleasant with the beast beneath the boards. Sending out scrolls to other lords, the council discussed it. Y/n didn’t say anything, just listening. Writing out the needed scrolls, Alicent quietly remarked her beautiful hand at the words.

The door slammed open as Aemond entered, he was enraged at his wife’s seat on the council. “Aemond.” Alicent said as the room stiffened.

“What is this?” He asked with as his brows furrowed, he felt very wronged and partially frustrated that his lady wife had a seat on the council above him.

“It’s a meeting.” Otto declared as he looked back from the board back to Aemond, “Not yet done, what is your business here?”

“What is she doing here?” Aemond inquired as he leant over a chair, more belonging in this room than anyone else. Especially his wife, he thought to himself the other members with an awkward look on their face.

“She has a seat extended on the king’s council after her own father, daemon.” Otto filled him in on the subject, visibly disinterested.

“Daemon’s claim on the council died with my father’s death. She holds no such extension.” Aemond reasoned calmly, very much opposed to the irritation rising inside him.

“I’m still a hand to the king aren’t I? Your mother is on the council. Lord Tyland-“ Otto replied back but was interrupted by Aemond midway before he made his point.

“None of them sworn against Aegon. Daemon has called for the pretender hence his seat on this council holds no significance.” Aemond scoffed looking down at his wife who sat, scrolls lay in front of her and a pen in her hand. She felt overwhelmed with such necessary distaste, the hand to the king and queen mother herself asked her to join the council yet Aemond had an issue. It’s not as if she were to act against the interest of the crown or make big decisions to begin with.

“She is the princess. Your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of the gods and all the members of this very council and more. Despite Daemon’s treachery and your incoherent jealousy she belongs here.” Otto said breaking Aemond’s mouth, he knew which nerve to exactly hit. Saying Aemond was jealous, of his lady wife’s seat in front of everyone. It was enough to send him seething back and he was right. With a huff as he stared down at y/n, he turned to his heel at left.

Everyone had their accustomed part with a potential war brewing. Aemond had to leave to meet lord borros next morning. Y/n assumed he would be calculating and supposedly busy with his task at hand yet he found time to cause a scene at the council. Y/n knew that nobody on the council saw her as a threat because they all knew of daemon’s indifference for her. The black sheep. In truth she didn’t owe her father any loyalty either so their calculations were correct, her husband however.

She planned to avoid him regardless, spending the rest of the day with the twins, Helaena talking her ear off about her fixated spider and y/n loved that too. Jaehaera was playing with y/n’s hair, adding her toys into it making improper braids. Jahaerys running in circles and hoarding his toys in y/n’s lap as she enjoyed a conversation with their mother.

Alicent walked in, for a moment just taking in the domesticity of the scene. The serenity, the girls laughing. It was rather rare before y/n to see Helaena at peace like this. She entered with a soft knock greeting everyone and she took a seat next to y/n, “Children you must retire your auntie now, it’s rather late!”

“It’s alright mother, it’s not that late.” protested, Haelena she enjoyed y/n’s company as much as the whining children, Jaehaera caged y/n in her tiny arms from her back to not let her go. However through alicent’s hesitant eyes y/n realised she must have some sort of business to discuss.

“Forgive me my loves I am growing a bit tired…but I’m not going anywhere I’d be back soon enough!” She said with a sigh as she kissed the twins goodbye, both of them a bit protestant but let her go eventually. “Good evening, Helaena.” She smiled and bid her goodbye as well and exited with her mother in law.

After they were out in the hallway, secluded of other ears Alicent proceeded “Are you alright?”

“Yes, your grace” y/n replied with a non hesitant nod, in an instant with a smile confused why would that question come up.

“Mother.” She corrected her stopping on her way to turn to face her.

“-Mother.” Y/n said with a soft smile rephrasing her title.

“After…today’s council. You have been avoiding Aemond?” She asked searching for y/n’s dreary eyes.

“No-that is not the case” y/n shook her head trying to formulate a better answer given she hadn’t asked that question to herself. Because in a sense she was avoiding Aemond. “I—“ she breathed “I am rather anxious.”

“Of what? Does he speak to you in an ill manner? Do you wish for me to talk to him?” Alicent inquired concerned for her hesitation of Aemond’s lashing out or whatever it was she was trying to avoid.

“No-no it’s not that…I just feel guilty. He wants an authority, his opinion to be heard at council level and I get that place before him, we’re not at the best terms to begin with and now he must be cross with me” Y/n explained her worry with a sigh.

“And? It is your right, y/n.” Alicent said as she took her hand into hers in an affirming way, “you must never feel guilty for claims that are solely yours.” She explained, “as of Aemond, he can be difficult sometimes, but I assure you he isn’t malevolent. He loves you.”

The Queen mother’s assurance felt it came from a place of gentle constitution and the motherly naïveté of overlooking some things but y/n was more than aware that Aemond did anything but love her. She was familiar with lack of warmth, affection, just so far from it she could almost find strange ways to dwell in it. It was an emotion she knew for so long, from her father’s house to her husband’s, bricks of her old life and no love.

But she did not tell alicent of her wearies, after all she did not worry about it she was at terms with it. But she was worried meeting Aemond, as of now, she walked the hallway to their shared bedchamber with heavy breaths. Aemond was looking out the giant window, he had a journey to make the next morning to the baratheons yet he wasn’t resting or preparing. Much to y/n’s demise she hoped he’d be off somewhere else. She closed the door behind her as she entered, Aemond never talked to her generally. She never spoke unless spoken to but today silence weighed heavy between the two of them.

“The meeting ran late did it?” Aemond asked without looking back at her, he could tell from the soft stride who entered their chambers.

“No, I was with Helaena…” She trailed off growing strangely anxious because she felt answerable to him. As if it would compensate him and that was her burden to bear. “The meeting was rather trivial”

“Was it now?” He scoffed in a bigger way and turned to face her, “You must have provided the trivial meeting with your other worldly wit and understanding of warfare.”

“Aemond” she said taking in a sharp breath, meaning to tread carefully “I know you are upset. Believe me I did not know beforehand of the planning nor was it offered to me, the hand-queen mother they deemed it as my duty and right and I did not have other choice otherwise I would’ve asked you…”

“Asked me what?” Aemond interrogated crossing his arms as he leant against the stone pillar, her feigning nonchalance and false sympathy irritated him to no end.

“To take my place” she answered. She meant it in a genuine sense because she did not hold the same passion or want for a seat on the King’s council the way Aemond did. It was far from her. “I’d rather you take my place, I have no wish for authority on the council. I could ask the hand to-“

“You truly are the imbecile I presumed you to be.” He said assertively as he stiffened, his shoulders tight. “Are you that naive? Do you think I would need your help to put myself on the council? Yours?” He said as he huffed, berating her was his intention. Y/n remained silent, unmoving in her place no matter however she tried and help him or soften the rift in their marriage he was always imbecile from it. In the meantime he walked a bit closer to her, towering over her given his taller stature he leant forward by a bit to make himself appear intimidating.

“My apologies then.” She muttered lowering her gaze from his because she felt rather scrutinised by him as if she was at fault for something, as if she had wronged him. “Excuse me” she said before he could reply and attempted to retreat away to the adjoint bathroom. Wait out him falling asleep or leaving. The newlywed with their peculiar marriage of indifference.

-

Aemomd’s return from his errand with the Baratheon lord contained of a difficult detour nobody had anticipated. Rather difficult, to navigate such a blow through warfare. The council, y/n merely heard and spoke four sentences on an average, was shocked. No idea of action status not war treading. Circumstance heavy on everyone. Shame and disregard.

Sitting by the burning lamp, late evening, the scrolls and letters were to be written with such urgency after what happened with lucerys y/n had to take it to her own desk. Too busy with the works she barely processed the loss yet, she did not know Lucerys as a brother but an acquaintance who was rather kind to her all those years.

She barely looked up when the door opened, only when Aemond drew closer. Rather too close to her desk, he leant on the table where she was writing. Close to where she was sitting he breathed heavily. Putting the pen down and the scroll aside y/n looked up at him. “What did the king say?”

“The king?” Aemond repeated with a small laugh, he was still getting used to the new titles but referring those even behind closed doors was somewhat strange. “Aegon, he is not the most serious about it. Collateral damage he said.” Aemond repeated the words, he was never fond of the bastard himself but he never planned to take such drastic step. “Grand sire had a lot to say and mother, she is disappointed. Perhaps everyone is disappointed?” He asked emphasising ‘everyone’ referring to her. He did not know of his lady wife’s connection with the Strong boy but his own mother had a dislike for him and yet she was disappointed.

“I don’t know warfare as good as the lot of you, but” she nodded to his previous implication of being disappointed in a way, such loss must be difficult to stomach for those really close. “It is a lot…”

“Do you grieve him?” Aemond asked, his tone non threatening nor interrogative, subtly calm.

Pausing y/n thought about it for a moment, she was quick to side with the hand’s cold and calculative decisions as her mother in law suggested writing Rhaenyra letters instead, y/n herself weighed heavy on practicality as if grief was non existent. In a way it was. “I don’t know” she said puzzled “We were never close but he was kind to me, not all of them and not everytime but whenever he could be…” she trailed off. “He was easily anxious about a lot of things, scared.” Last time she had seen him it was the dinner for King Viserys upon the discussion to heir of driftmark. The scene that followed that dinner was distant in y/n’s mind until now. The same inferior fright was in Luke’s eyes that day.

Aemond did not say anything, her words made him feel guilty even more so but he would never display to anyone. He fought for his life debating to the council, to grandsire that it was an accident however not enough for him to take accountability of it as if he had done something wrong. He knew he had, but he did not show it. He could not. It did not come from a place of sympathy nor altruistic intentions but an ambush of unsolicited guilt. “Is it true?” She asked him.

“What is?” He replied as her voice pulled him out of his thought and his gaze met hers, she still sat on the desk the soft orange hue of the lantern on her face.

“You hold no regret?” She asked him referring to the conversation he had with the council when he was confronted about what happened. He did not owe his truthfulness to anyone, especially not the council.

The heavy silence between the two of them told her more than his words could, her eyes softened as he pondered his unsaid exoneration. Nobody would believe him but she might just, “I did not mean for that to happen, nor did I plan it.”

There was a crack in his demeanour, very different from how he presented himself back in front of everyone else about the the whole ordeal. Accountability seeping in and he should know, “Acting bigger than the situation won’t provide you with the atonement you are looking for.” She told him, forgetting herself when he asked for her advice and she assumed in such delicate state of mind he would rather lash out than listen but he did not. He was present, here to listen. To her? So far he had made it so very clear that he held no regard for her whatsoever.

“I am not looking for atonement.” He said more to himself than to her in a gentle tone and a hint of lostness in his expression. He longed for something, some consolation of some kind but he did not know exactly what and he felt restless with heavy emotions.

“You are.” She answered for the question he did not ask out loud, however the epiphany of it was not lost on him as he looked at her like an open wound. He did not protest her because she was right, she held the answers to herself. She could think for him despite of what he did and it unsettled him in some way because he had never felt such softness of anyone else. To know that he had done something he would have to seek atonement for and…hold regard for him still?

“Do you see me differently then?” He asked, small fright creeping him on the inside if she affirmed his answer.

“No” she replied without hesitation nor enthusiasm, she did see him less ruthless and uncaring than she had previously known him to be but she did not tell him that in this state of mind of his. However the heavy silence and the remorseful tension was too much to bear. She stood up from her chair seemingly to leave and attend some other task, just then realising he stood rather close. Before she could attempt to move away he stopped her. Holding her by her wrist he pulled her close but he was already close enough, the distance shortening this small for the first time since their wedding.

“Do you truly, not see differently?” He asked again with searching eyes. He couldn’t do with her short no however affirming as it was it wasn’t absorbing. It did not feed to his shame and guilt.

Y/n did not know how to soothe his wearies, she never thought her perception would matter to him at all. The walls within their marriage came crumbling down as he held her wrist it seemed, she wasn’t going away yet he kept a hold of her. To ground himself more than her. After staring into his eye for what seemed like an eternity she simply pulled him into her embrace, in a tight embrace. Her arms holding his broad stature the best they could, raising on her toes to bring him as close as she could.

Aemond was stunned to say, for a moment. He could not fathom she would want to tread so gently with him after what he had done he did not expect such, such softness. As he enlaced his arms around her waist, hugging her back as he raised her closer to him. His person. He had never felt such warmth and love of hands that would show soft affection even after knowing his ugly work, he was met with her comfort when he deserved retribution. It nestled his spirit in a serene place, he worried the place would vanish if he let go off her so he didn’t. He kept holding her close to him, closer of it was possible as he buried his face by the crook of her neck.

After a while she pulled away but not entirely, resting her temple against his. His soft breath on her as she sighed closing her eyes. He followed to, until he met her gaze again. His impulse wanted to touch her face to make sure she was real, that this moment was. So he did. Fixing the loose strand of her hair behind her ear he cupped her face. She did not move away, heart racing in such gentle exchange between the two of them. It was a first and he did not want her to extend her boundaries for his sake but he could not stop himself, he brushed his lips against her.

Indulging in a passionate kiss, holding her face in his hands as if she was made of porcelain. It was the first time somebody had held y/n with such fragility. Such affection was very foreign to her all her life, even the kiss on their wedding day felt forced and ceremonial. But this felt real, it was. She kissed him back and held him close, standing in the light of a desk lantern, the moonlight seeping in and lovers who might just be alright.

—

—part 2.

I am sorry if this feels rushed, i skipped season 1 bc i want to do all of s2…please let me know what you think in the comments 💕

If you want to be in the taglist pls comment AND go drink water RIGHT NOW ILY SO MUCH !!!!!!!!

-

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

[munsonthings86]

sunkissed

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: soft morning sex w steve <3

warnings: cursing, fluff, clingy!steve, established relationship, smut, praise, tipsy sex, oral (f receiving), penetration, no protection use

an: today (apr. 14) is the day steve and sunshine met ;) so i wrote something a lil special for them. hope you guys enjoy! *minors dni*

wc: 4.1k

steve and sunshine’s timeline

It couldn't have been later than six a.m. The waking sun shed an amber light that tinted your white sheer curtains, as they gently swayed in the brisk morning breeze. The wind blew harshly at times, prompting the sleepy boy next to you to nuzzle desperately closer to your heated touch. His lush, chocolate hair tickled your cheek as his head rested softly against yours when he abandoned his own pillow.

A freckled arm held you tightly against him as he spooned you, a breath that still smelled of beer and some other alcohol fanning your cheek. Usually, you recoil at the sour stench of liquor on people, but you couldn't help but to find it a bit endearing at the moment.

It was Steve after all. You found countless things about him endearing. Even his smelly little morning alcohol breath.

Sailing curious, feather-like fingers across his tanned skin that shined in the golden light, you stared at him in awe. His neck was still littered with stains of your lipstick from where you kissed him the night before. If you weren't so comfortable where you laid, trapped in this blanket of Steve, you'd rush to sneak a picture on your polaroid.

You knew exactly which one of your purses you'd want to keep the picture in too. It was only fair seeing as he kept his own photo of you in his wallet. And another on the dashboard of his BMW. And another on his bedside table.

It began getting hard to keep track of them all. Steve didn't mind though. When Steve would be having a less than ideal day, a rare but not uncommon occurrence, he couldn't avoid the grim ache of how much he missed you. It was such a treat when he would randomly stumble upon a picture of you somewhere, powerless against the blush and smile that would come.

The brightness of your room was blinding and unforgiving to the headache your hangover brought. Your hazy eyes stung when you tried to ogle the sunrise but you willingly gazed anyway. The sky was a gentle blue, cloudless, and full of melodic birds.

The moon still sat high and mighty, glowing, as it was being kissed by the sun's light.

It was such a breathtaking sight. A needle of guilt pricked you when you realized that you were witnessing it all alone.

Your fingers twitched when you thought about waking Steve, but he just looked too peaceful sleeping like this; lips puffy and dry from all his snoring and sleepy mumbles— hair perfectly untamed. Some rogue strands fell over his eyes, enticing you to gently sweep them behind his ears, careful not to wake him.

He groaned when you were unable to resist scratching at his scalp, eyebrows furrowing as his tired eyes failed to stay open. Not careful enough, apparently. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you apologized in a hushed tone, apologetic smile to match.

"That's alright," he mumbled through a small grin, exhaustion weighing his voice down. Unfolding his body from the curled position he was in, his body tensed when he full-body stretched. You loved watching Steve wake up. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," you responded after taking a glance at the dainty clock hung above your vanity. Steve's eyes widened as if he was startled. "Jesus, why're you up so early," you think you hear him say through his yawn. He laid his head down on your chest when he settled.

The hair that draped over his face was pushed back by your fingers so you could admire his lengthy eyelashes from this angle. "Maybe because somebody wouldn't stop kicking me in his sleep," you quipped, poking a finger at his side.

He scoffed in return before adjusting his head to stare back at you, "Well, I hope you find the guy who did that because I, personally, do not kick in my sleep."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, tell that to my leg." Steve shrugged as if you insisted on the matter, tossing the duvet over his head before trailing down to your legs. "What're you-"

The question was cut off with a muttered, "I do not kick in my sleep." He prodded at your thigh after each word to accentuate his (false) statement. Giggling at him, you waited for him to return from under the covers but he didn't move. It fell a bit quiet even. "Did ya get lost down there, Harrington?"

"Something like that," soft, sedative kisses to your hip punctuated his reply. It was so easy to be distracted once he had this view of you. Plump thighs that he wanted to sink his teeth into, stomach that he wanted to pepper kisses on, and a tempting honeypot that made his mouth water, on full display for him.

It was a trap that he unintentionally fell into, but was fully delighted to be in, nonetheless. You lifted the duvet from over his head, tittering at the mischievous grin on his face.

Pushing the oversized white shirt that belonged to Steve once upon a time above your belly button, he found comfort between your legs. A knot in the pit of your stomach formed at the tasty mix of curiosity and anticipation manifesting from all that was unfolding.

With booze still lingering in your system, your body was more sensitive than usual. Every little touch Steve gave you sparked electricity along your skin and, greedily, your body chased the sensation each time, clearly unable to stave off its hunger.

His hair tickled you dangerously close to your core and your body seemed to have a mind of its own, hips bucking up on his face involuntarily.

He simply smirked at you, indiscreetly relishing in the way you reacted to him so easily. So needily. Grabbing at your waist, the pads of his fingers pressed hard onto you, and you were sure the two of you would fuse. Your eyebrows pinched themselves together, tighter and tighter, the more impatient you became, mumbled pleas stumbling out of your lips.

Steve reluctantly broke eye contact with you to look down at your heated core that he was certain was desperate for his attention.

Pinning your lower half to the mattress, he left a few taunting pecks to your lacy underwear, loving the way your puffy lips felt against his mouth. A low groan eluded Steve when your nails tugged lightly at his roots after clutching a handful of his hair. The vibration from the sound was like a dull shock to your pulsating cunt.

As if the kisses weren't egging you on enough, the tip of his tongue started flitting about, sweetly licking at your clit and in between your folds. His movements were slow and calculated; giving you just enough but leaving much to be desired, all at once. It was becoming unbearable.

Any discipline you had left in you was long gone.

With one hand gripping Steve’s hair and the other twisting at a stiffened nipple, you tried to keep yourself steady as you grinded yourself against Steve’s face while quiet moans fell from your lips.

His tongue had quit its dance and he wasn’t kissing where you needed him anymore. Instead, he grinned; gawking at you through his eyelashes as you selfishly didn't stop using his face to get what you wanted.

It's almost too much to look at him.

His cock twitched and strained against his boxers, savoring the way you were getting so lost in pleasure. Steve caught how you struggled to maintain eye contact with him whilst you shamelessly flaunted your lack of self restraint.

The pillow by your head fell victim to the squeezing and kneading trap of your hand, helping to keep you grounded. Soft whimpers that poked through the silence of the room were nothing short of music to his ears. Steve always found himself captivated when you got like this. You were so hot.

It’s almost too much to look at you.

"Steve," you fussed. "It's too early to be teasing me like this." Though you were being sincere, you laughed a bit amid your desperation. Steve's carelessness to shave for the past few days left stubble on his jaw and the friction it gave you against your soaked panties was too enthralling.

"Never too early for that," he laughed, tracing a finger along the intricate patterns of your racy bottoms, "but anything for my princess."

He could never say no to you. There were no bounds to what his angel deserved. Your body was hungry and his mouth was thirsty.

Fingers wrapped around the hem of the flimsy material, he unveiled your needy core to his even needier mouth. He drew his own undergarments down with a single hand, the other finding your waist as he settled himself between the sweet temptation of your legs once more.

Steve garnered a mouthful of saliva before slowly spilling it onto your cunt. He watched, mouth agape, as it crept, long, wet and sloppy from the top of your sex to the bottom. It blended in seamlessly with all the arousal pooling around your folds and dripping down your ass.

A reflexive moan slipped from you when he blew cool air onto it, the sensitivity making your body react. He hummed, staring intently at your gorgeous, sopping hole. Any minute now, he was going to be drooling all over himself.

He dotted smooches to your bikini line, addicted to how the sounds you made practically begged him to ease the burden between your legs. Tongue swiping across his lips as if he was starved, he was certain that you were the most appetizing thing he had ever laid eyes on.

His dark, lustful eyes never left yours while he laid his tongue flat against your vagina, a pleased sigh luring itself out at the taste. The sudden contact hoisted your body off the bed.

Steve's eyes flutter shut when you let out the prettiest moan for him. It only drives him to devour you deeper, completely determined to lap up every drop of your nectar. He was already eager to feel you clench and shake against him as you came. The thought alone sent his body to grind his erection against the firm bed.

The satin sheets you dressed your mattress in were smooth and kind of cold on his cock.

Watching Steve like this was so hypnotizing. Him embraced by your thighs, hair wild, eyebrows knitted with threads of lust and focus, chin soaked from making out with your pussy, and fucking himself on your bed from how feral he was; it was all so dirty it left you speechless.

He didn't even have to touch you, really. Just seeing him be so primal was enough to leave you a moaning mess. Brainless for him. Fuck.

Steve's tongue instantly lands on your clit when he goes to tease it, being so familiar with your body and all. He was so hooked on the way you tasted, that he would eat you for hours on end, if you'd let him. He didn't tire. Steve loved the way he could send you into a frenzy with just his tongue. He got so much pleasure from seeing you in pleasure. It was so fucking sexy.

You were already close to your peak considering how aroused and needy you'd been for the past few minutes. Whining when he unlatched from you, he hushed you, running a thumb from your clit down to your entrance.

He didn't warn you before slipping in his long, slender pointer finger and you both let out a satisfied groan. While you moaned at the penetration, Steve moaned at the way your warm, dripping cunt easily dragged him in, gripping his digit. He used his hand to help you reach the high he knew was coming, curling and pumping in and out of you just the way you liked.

His mouth wasn't done with you yet, though.

Steve's tongue was frantic and slippery across your wetness. Your fingers were lost and running amuck in his brunette tresses as you struggled to cling onto reality. Legs trembling and chest heaving as your breathing got rapid, "Steve, Steve, Steve," tore out of you as if it was the only word in your vocabulary.

You didn't have to say anything else. He knew exactly what time it was.

"Mhm," he hums into you. The resonance from his voice tickles your clit perfectly and it's what you need to launch you over the edge. You slipped into a deep pool of euphoria, completely coming undone for him.

Both of your shaky hands held Steve's head firmly against you, giving him nowhere to go but right where you needed him. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me," his muffled voice wavered a little as he coaxed you delicately.

If your hangover wasn't already making you dizzy enough, then Steve definitely was.

"That's it," he insisted, sweeping a comforting hand along your hips, "Just ride it out for me." His thrusts against the bed nearly brought him to an orgasm of his own but he was determined to save it for you. The way your hole pulsated, it was like it was calling for Steve to fill it.

The tight hold you had on his hair loosened as he crept his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind the further he got.

His face was soaked and covered in an elixir of his spit and your juices, and some of it found solace on your own face when he leaned down to kiss you. The lewdness of it all turned you on more if that was even possible. His smile at you was dopey and naughty and it's wildly infectious.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Dizzy," you confessed, tucking some of his hair behind his ear though it doesn't make it look much neater. Concern straightened Steve's face in the blink of an eye, "Good dizzy or bad dizzy?" The pads of his fingers rushed to your temple to sooth you.

"Good dizzy, for sure," you kissed at his flushed, puffy lips in pure bliss. "Such a good dizzy," your hand trailed down from his stomach to his throbbing member. He was so hard it made you gasp. Steve tended to be harder than usual in the mornings, but this was different.

"You're so hard, oh my God," giggling against his lips, you stroked him agonizingly slow and steady.

"Well, duh. Prettiest girl in the world just came all over my face. How could I not be this hard for you?" His words hitched in his throat when your thumb spread his precum across the tip of his cock, groans rushing out of him.

He thrusted into your hand eagerly, but you soon stopped your movements, much to Steve's dismay. "God, you're such a little tease," he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the flirty perfume that still dwelled on your skin.

From your ear to your collarbone, he showered you in open-mouthed kisses, whimpers and throaty hums pouring out when he grinded himself against your velvety ass like a dog in heat.

You could tell how badly he needed you.

"And you're such a little hypocrite," a smile played at your lips, "but you're lucky. 'Cause I need you just as bad," you purred, stretching your leg behind his waist, bringing Steve to hold up your knee.

He slapped his cock on your entrance a number of times before running it along your folds, coating himself in your dripping mess. A hearty moan from you set off sparks in Steve's chest when he plunged his hard length into you.

Your pussy welcomed him in with open arms, surely not wanting him to leave as it gripped him tightly when he pulled out only to thrust right back into you.

His and your moans harmonized as you both reveled in the fervor. A hand flew to the back of Steve's head and held him there, loving the way he stretched you so perfectly. His cock was just the way you liked it; thick and veiny in such a way that it caressed your walls inexplicably well. It's a sensation so good that it makes your mind happily go blank and numb.

You were completely at Steve's mercy.

Steve caught your lips when they fell ajar, kissing you deeply. His head went fuzzy when you moaned shamelessly into his mouth, tongues colliding. Your racing pulse thumped against his fingers as he held you by your neck. Pulling away from the kiss, he slid his hand down your chest and stopped right where your heart beat, reminding you to breathe.

Still, his cock trucked in and out of you at a pace that was so delicious. It wasn't too fast and was in no way slow. It was exactly what you both needed.

"Shit, you feel so good."

Droning, you were unable to form any words other than fuck, yes, and Steve. Your mind, body, and soul was burning with a desire and yearn for him. Eyelids low and flickering, you put up a fight to keep your eyes from closing so that you could cherish this sight of him.

Sweeping back his hair, his eyes fluttered shut when you rubbed at his ear, knowing that he liked it so much when you did that, especially in moments like these. Steve loved the way you felt around him, of course, but it was the little intimate touches that really drove him over the edge. Steve wanted to stay here forever.

Your t-shirt bunched up around your chest, leaving your bouncing breasts on full display for him. Your face pulled against his, breath fanning his face as you mewled and moaned and begged. Pleading, glimmering eyes never leaving him. God, how scenic. You were so dreamy. Steve almost wasn't sure if he was still asleep or not.

You grinded yourself back against him, husky moans sounding from the boy that was making you feel so fucking good. Every hard thrust he gave, teased that little sensitive spot inside of you, and you swore you were in some sort of heaven. You cried out, back curving in ecstasy.

"There it is, yeah," he grunted, resting his hand on the spot where your back arched. "Right there, baby?"

Nodding your head hurriedly, a plethora of "yeah"s tripped out of your lips. He thrusted into your dripping core relentlessly, feeling you clench around him tightly. Your eyes were screwed shut and your legs were shaking like leaves in wind.

That, coupled with the gratification Steve was giving himself earlier, he already knew he wasn't going to last much longer but he needed to see you cum again one more time. At least.

His hand ran down your sweaty frame to where your bodies met, drawing circles at your clit.

"I love that. I love this," he praised the way you clenched around his shaft whenever he touched your clit while he was inside of you. It was wildly addicting. Steve couldn't put into words how heavenly you truly felt. He couldn't believe that you were his.

The moans you let out were breathy and frequent, a sure sign that you weren't far behind your climax either.

"You sound so pretty, baby," he whimpered, nudging his head so that his ear was pressed to your lips, not wanting to miss a single little noise you made for him. His clumsy fingers worked tirelessly at your clit. You held onto his wrist as you became consumed by bliss.

His and your hips collide when you buck yourself back against him as your cunt choked down on his cock, body writhing. If you carried on like this, soon you'd be seeing stars.

It's a nirvana that your past lovers were never able to take you to. Not the way Steve could. Steve loved watching you cum. He'd do anything to get you to cum.

"F-Fuck, that's so good. You're doing so good, sunshine. You're so fucking pretty like this. It’s unreal. Holy shit," he babbled. If Steve didn't stop now, he'd surely explode.

While riding out your orgasm, you felt him go suddenly absent. "Why'd you pull out," you whined, head falling back onto your pillow in protest. But trust him, it's the last thing that he wanted to do.

"Because I was about to fucking cum," he whined back, laughing a bit as he squeezed the base of his raging cock. "When you cum you get so tight. It feels so fucking good, you have no idea, baby," he cooed, rushing back into you, already missing your warmth.

After your two orgasms, your hole was impossibly wet and hot and Steve's dick was absolutely drowning. It doesn't take Steve much to utterly crumble. He was now at your mercy, all whiny and needy and desperate for you, fucking you faster and deeper than before. His gaze never dared to leave your face. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache.

If there were a textbook solely dedicated to beauty, there was no doubt in Steve's head that you'd be plastered all over it. Just look at you.

"How're you so perfect, huh? Why are you so perfect? It's not fair, baby, I swear," his thrusts were becoming sloppy and offbeat. "You could get away with anything with a face like this." Steve Harrington. The king of praise. If his cock or mouth couldn't make you cum, his words surely could.

"You gonna cum for me, Steve?" His forehead dropped onto yours as he nodded, beads of sweat falling on your face and you can't say that you mind at all.

Steve loved having you under him like this. Loved having his hands laced through yours on either side of your head, your legs wrapped tight around him, keeping him in. Loved being able to lower his head just a few centimeters to have his lips clash with yours. He just wanted to kiss you and love you and fuck you like this all damn the time.

"Oh, baby." His mouth falls open as whimpers and moans and groans spill everywhere, warm cum spurting into you. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. As he came, his greedy, convulsing body pushed further and further into you, chasing down his high incessantly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close, while you peppered his contorted face in pecks that were gentle, in contrast to the intensity his body was feeling.

The repeated, grating clanks of your metal headboard beating against your wall slowed and soon quieted once Steve collapsed onto you, totally fucked out and sleepy all over again.

"Fuck, that was so good, princess." A smile pulled at your lips in agreement.

His breathing was heavy and you chose to calm him down by playing with the short little hairs that stuck to his skin from all the sweat.

The crook of his neck was in your face and you noticed the lipstick stains you saw earlier still hadn't faded.

"It looks like you have a sky on your neck," you lilted, finger ghosting over the area below his ear. The sentence made Steve's eyebrows scrunch together. Confused, understandably. Still, he was curious to know what you meant. "I have a what now?"

You reached for the compact mirror on your end table, opening it to give Steve a look, "A sky!"

He blushed at your sweet giggle. "These kiss marks kinda look like clouds and your moles are the stars," you traced them as you spoke. "See? It's a sky," you affirmed with a smile.

Steve only stared back at you with the most lovesick grin on his face. He still couldn't believe you were his. He rested his head back down on your shoulder, drawing invisible patterns along your sternum. "I like the way you see things; the way you think about things. It's so adorable and bright. I love your brain. I love you, sunshine."

Your heart undeniably skipped a couple beats at that. Steve always complimented you, but there was something about how sweet and gooey like honey those words were that made you feel like you were going to burst.

"I love you too, Stevie," you took his freckled cheeks in your hands, planting your smiling lips against his own for a kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Pulling away, you ogled the way he beamed, completely and utterly glowing in front of you, the same way the moon outside glowed when it was kissed by the sun's light.

The moon only glows when kissed by the sun.

💌 1 new message from jojo: smut isn’t really in my skillset so im a little unsure abt this lol. but i wrote this with a lot of love, nonetheless! feedback is so greatly appreciated!

[mina-org]

Now playing art deco

yandere!mafia!141 x reader

likes n reblogs are really appreciated but comments steal my heart frfr

this is like a context post to the other fics coming out!

warning: yandere, stalking, John is a lil misgyonist, all of them are creeps bc this is yandere mafia au, I wouldnt say dead dove but theres stalking and panty stealing and like alluding to murder or disappearing people

word count: 2308

୨୧ What do you once you're trained by the SAS and then abandoned by the military? Years of your life given away, everything you worked towards thrown away. Unable to settle back into who they were before the military they continue into a different career path, one that still utilises violence and timing.

୨୧ After a black ops mission goes south, Task Force 141 are announced MIA, by the very same man who gave them false information hoping to tie up loose ends. Although months and months stuck in Siberia they grew closer as a team and what was once a healthy disrespect for authority turns into a deep, profound hatred. As those seeds of hatred bloom into budding revenge plots they one by one become completely disillusioned with the cause they had dedicated their life to.

୨୧ Simon was the first, he began to snap at the others, annoyed that their hope lingered on. They were supposed to die in that mission and when they weren’t, they were left to freeze to death, they couldn’t trust anyone who wasn't in the tent with them, right then and there. People who you know can hurt you most after all

୨୧ John is second, he had doubts all before Simon but held on to hope, General Shepard had a hand in promoting him to a captain 10 years ago, worked together so often. Simon snapping, the constant freezing temperature and slowly watching his men start to fade, he snapped too. He wasn't just a loose end was? His team definitely weren't loose ends to be tied up in some bullshit suicide mission. John was going to survive this, as would his boys and they’d get back at those who failed them, General Shepard set this up but so many turned around, pretending not to see anything.

୨୧ Kyle and Johnny lost faith as John and Simon go on their rants, they couldn't ignore the truth laid out so clearly. They know where their loyalties lie now, with each other.

୨୧ They couldn't go back to the SAS or any military, they were on their own. Luckily John had money and money talked, his presence also  commanded respect and they had all seen how people ran these organisations. After a recent clamp down on crime back home they were greeted with a power vacuum.

୨୧ London was ripe for the taking and after London? They were going after shepard. 

John Price

୨୧ The Captain who falls for a cafe worker.

୨୧ Possessive and jealous. You really have no idea the effect you have on him do you? Or the rest of your coworkers and customers. His blue eyes filled with an undeniable lust for you, but you never picked up on it. Or the lust that lingering in the eyes of others. He often crosses the line of the boss, bringing you flowers, clothes, those pretty hair clips you wear, even allowing false nails, paying for them when you complain about the recent price increase. You are always so thankful, pretty eyelashes batting, but it didn’t belong to him, yet anyway. You gave them to everyone, never suspicious of what their intentions are. The little touches but not being able to indulge in you yet, tortuous. The lives he’s taken in your name, not too long a list yet but long enough to scare you. You're the reason his cafe has such a high turnover of staff, someone is a little too touchy and john stops putting them on the schedule. All the people you worked with before john took over management were long gone and now people assumed the two of you were dating. Dove. Doll. Love. Petal. Pet You should have told him to stop when he started but you didn't and it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. He kept you behind after work praising you for work you didn't do, when you opened the store in the early hours of the morning the surprise feeling of someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you into their chest has startled you awake better than any coffee could. You don't notice how his grip tightens ever so slightly around you as your new coworker asks a question, you don't see the death stare either.

୨୧ Delusional. John adores you. The lonely longing and heavenly yearning he felt was the most addicting feeling. You gave him so many smiles, always found yourself bent down giving him a little show he was so grateful for and he never shied away from showing it through tips or pay raises that only you received. John wanted you to know he was a provider, just spread those pretty legs for him and never worry about the cafe or your silly degree again. Your brown sugar and vanilla scent danced on his tongue and haunting his dreams, he imagined you as the perfect homemaker, hopefully you’d be round with his babies by spring, twins ran in his family ya know? 

Simon Riley

୨୧ The Enforcer who falls for a fellow mafia member

୨୧  Stalker. You start to feel something wrong, so wrong. A strong chill pressing down on you, lingering around you, seemingly scaring people away. The chill was always there, seemingly haunting you. Ghost had been hunting, no, watching you for a while, you had popped onto his radar a while ago, Gaz knew you as a friend of a friend, someone who had a knack for creating false documents and getting into systems you have no business being in. A skill set that John needed. The organisation was young, still in their infancy  and they were able to dominate London in a short time but they were still nowhere near their goal and each day General Shepard’s own paranoia sent him further into hiding. They needed access to military files and you would get them there, they had time, enough money to make anyone crack and of course, Simon. a silent, foreboding man. He never spoke to you, just watched as you spoke to his boss. He was standing by the door, so you wouldn't be disturbed, Price explained but you knew the truth, he was standing there so Price got the answer he wanted and would stand between you and freedom until he did. Price didn’t care you had moved on from that part of your life, he assured you the boys in blue were the least of your worries if you didn’t take the deal. 

୨୧ Possessive. You start working for them, you were pliable, in over your head with them, you never said no to Price’s requests, just told him that it would take some time and he was okay with that, he knew you wanted simon away from you as soon as possible and that you wouldn't prolong the tasks. You’d get to their office at 8am and finish at 4. It was almost like a regular job. Ghost still haunted you, keeping you on task and you’d tell him your progress so he could report back to Price. He could tell you didnt like him, or price, making you quit your precious job and now spending your day in a sickening silence. Simon felt like he knew you, imagining your company on the battlefields of his past life and right now all he could do is enjoy your company during the work day and lurk in the shadows of your flat. He hated you, he saw you everywhere, in the petals of flowers, the dainty chains that hung around the neck of rich patrons, delicate feathers that somehow always fall from the sky when you cross his mind. You were so gentle, you’d never survive in this world without him.

୨୧ Obsessive. You somehow made him envious of euthanised dogs. You were so unaware of how much your presence lingers, even in a room, buildings, on him. You infected the air he breathed and he was sick of it, so sick of it. He wanted you out of his head but he feared that the part of you that linger so persistently would only be banished by his own death and he had no time for that.

Johnny

୨୧ The weapon supplier who falls for a stripper

୨୧ Stalker. Weapons, drugs, hell johnny was pretty sure he could get his hands on exotic animals, that wasn't really necessary and would bring some unwanted attention to the young organisation, they had dealt with this before, johnny knew if they gloated, created too much of a splash and the law would come down, sink your rotten roots into local law enforcement, politicians and businesses? A much harder root to pull out. He doesn’t need to be at the club but Ghost used to be there more often than not and he got to be surrounded by beautiful people and great drinks. After nearly losing his dick in the freezing temperatures of Siberia this place seemed like heaven. And seeing you? Johnny knew he was ruined.

୨୧ Manipulative. Johnny is pulling strings. Price doesn’t care too much, you're an attraction and a popular one but your appearances are dwindling and doesn't Johnny deserve to be rewarded for his loyalty and hard work? So when the bouncer you got too touchy with disappears he doesn’t so much as send a bad look his way. Price would do the same, he doesn't want his boys to grow the same resentment he grew, if a pretty little thing helps johnny who is he to stand in the way of young love? Hell, he could do worse. Price is almost impressed with how long it’s taken Johnny. he’s been lying in wait for what? A year now. His jaws wide open, waiting to snap around his prey.

୨୧ Invasive, He hears the sigh of his name slips past your lips, and it’s like music to his ears. He wants to hear more. No, he’s desperate for more, spamming the tip button and suddenly he has all your attention. Johnny knows it’s wrong but the website is public and you don’t have to know that pyromaniac.johnny is also the guy lurking at the strip club. Or that same man is currently hunting for a dirty pair of your panties in your washing basket, just a room away as you put on a ridiculously long video to sleep too. You won’t need that once you're with Johnny, he’ll chat your ear off.

Kyle Garrick

୨୧ The rookie who falls for a love that he missed out on

୨୧ Stalker and obsessive. There was something different about you, something even more different about kyle. You had written it off as him not knowing how to act after he rejected you. Normally, Kyle is pretty outgoing, loud, and always able to capture your attention. Now his once glowing golden presence has rusted and your eyes wander elsewhere. He started following you everywhere, it was his turn to be a lovesick puppy. You kept him going after being stuck in the hellish cold so long, your image warmed him, he imagined coming home and you fawning over him once again. And he came back to you, only you didn’t want him anymore. He was eager to retract his rejection and skip into a nice little marriage with you. But you needed space, and then actively avoided him. He had requested your phone to be tapped, find out how you really felt about him but you didn’t talk about him over the phone, eavesdropped but nothing, checked your diary and nothing, apart from not letting your heart get broken by the same hands twice but even then his name wasn't written down.

୨୧ Jealous. Kyle wasn’t used to this. Made his blood boil, watching you make new friends, go on dates. You didn't revolve around him anymore. Kyle asked to be stationed at your uni, explaining it away as a breeding ground for new recruits and a massive customer base, after all who took more drugs than uni students? After a week he had recruited one of your shared mates, Brooks and he was useful, got a hold of the ropes quick. Kyle and Brooks served together briefly and the military had left a bitter taste in his mouth as well, he felt abandoned when he went into a planned terrorist attack, that everyone knew about, unarmed and was left with life changing injuries. You stayed in the studio flats with other mature students and he had to say the security was lacking, him and Johnny were in there for two hours setting up cameras and no one even asked what they were doing, those false ID cards for nothing. Johnny notices Kyle’s quietness as of late, as do John and Simon. John knows how he feels, coming home to someone who’s moved on, Kyle had dreamt of you for three years and you had spent that time moving on. They all felt for him, Kyle had never been rejected like this, his life before all this shit dangled in front of him, you dangled in front of him and the hurt nearly suffocated him. Kyle knows its wrong and he wants you to be happy, happy with him, so he starts sabotaging any chance you may have with other people, rumours  spread across the uni campus as if its a secondary school, he’ll hears you cry on the phone and your confidence dip lower and lower, until Kyle can swoop in and save you, he would wrap you in his arms and tell you how you wouldn’t need to worry about impressing anyone else. Expect you don’t give a shit, you're too busy getting your masters. Kyle’s shocked about how much you changed and now that lovesick look appears occasionally paired with you singing praises, but never given to him.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 1] Twenty-Four Years

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Chapter Summary: He's been waiting twenty-four years for this moment. For twenty-four years he's only thought of seeing you again.

Chapter Warnings: Bit of angst if you squint

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It’s that time again. The cherry blossoms fall from the trees and Satoru watches from the window. The petals always reach him either way, even if he doesn’t want them anywhere near him. Most of the time, he doesn’t. 

The cherry blossoms remind him of his solitude. Yet another year where he can only think about his beloved. It’s been twenty-four years since her passing, and she’s the only thought in his mind. It’s her favorite time of the year.

Every time he meets her, cherry blossom season is her favorite. He can only think about how your eyes sparkle at the sight of the pink petals, and how you begin to ramble about how much you love the spring time. The petals would usually fall on your hair, and Satoru would pick them out. Oh, and he certainly can’t forget the sneezes that would follow.

It’s funny, really. Someone that loves spring so much is mostly allergic to it. He almost feels pity for you because of it. Every lifetime is the same way.

“Your majesty,” that firm voice knocks him out of his trance. Satoru’s eyes tear away from the window, looking down at his right hand man. Right hand man… But Satoru can’t remember the man’s name. Immortality is hilarious, at some point you simply stop caring about everyone else around you. “Everything is set up for the spring ball.”

“Wonderful.” Satoru spares a look before glazing eyes land on the window again. He’s tapping his finger on the throne, bored of the place. It’ll get more lively soon.

It’s that time again. He gets to see you twenty-four years after your death. He can only hope that this time around things are different. Perhaps you won’t be allergic to the spring.

Your awful fate will change this time around. You won’t be allergic to the spring but there might be a chance you’ll hate it– It’s fine, he always considered autumn to be more befitting to you anyway. Perchance you’ll be more hateful, which would be wonderful in his books. You’ve always been too nice for your own good. And there’s always the possibility that this time around you hate him… But that’s nearly impossible. 

There’s absolutely no way that you’ll hate him. Not in this lifetime, nor the next. But if there is that possibility that you do hate his guts with every fiber or your being, he can only hope that your awful fate has changed. Even if it’s at the cost of your love, Satoru can only hope that you have a better destiny.

“Be on the lookout for her.” Satoru orders. He doesn’t have to explain, everyone knows. You’re the only person he talks about. You’re the only thing Satoru talks about in general. From the point of your death up until your rebirth. “If she appears with a date, get rid of him. One way or another.”

“Yes, my king.” 

Satoru always considers his time with you to be short. Two years is not enough to get to know someone. Two years is all he gets with you in each of your lifetimes. But once you get to know someone for twenty lifetimes, you get to know them pretty well.

They’re your favorite flower every time he meets, and even though they aren’t officially in season, they adorn every inch of the palace. Peonies will be the most notable flower of the night, a flower that only a king can get in full bloom this month. Everyone will be impressed by the effort, truly. The usually cold blue palace is now completely pink with flowers.

Satoru watches from a distance. Nobody actually knows what he looks like, and Satoru likes to keep it that way. People talk, and it’s well known that the king is supposed to be senile at this stage in life. However, the senile old king is stuck in a twenty-seven year old’s body. Never aging. Forever youthful.

He taps his finger on the cold railing, watching from above. He has no interest in socializing anyway. When you live to a hundred years, you get to hear every story in the book. Imagine what you hear when you get to live four hundred more. 

Every face just blends together lately. It’s because he’s on the lookout for someone. He’s been waiting for a specific face the last twenty-four years, and that’ll be the only distinct face here tonight. How he longs to see it. 

He waits twenty-four years to spend two years by your side. Most of his days are lonely but the wait is worth it. He’ll spend the rest of eternity waiting for you, even if it is for five minutes. 

“Your majesty,” Satoru turns around, slightly annoyed. Knowing the people in the palace, this is for a trivial matter.

“What is it?” He doesn’t give an opportunity for a second thought before answering.

“There’s reports of your beloved by the garden.” The man says, making Satoru raise his brows. Genuine excitement flows through his veins for the first time in twenty-four years. He almost smiles– But he’ll remain stoic, there’s no point in showing emotion when he hasn’t even seen your face. For all he knows, the fool could be lying to his face.

“Right.” Satoru answers before stepping away. His feet pick up a bit of speed as he heads to the garden. His heart begins to race as he thinks of you. He just knows you look as beautiful as ever, this lifetime will do you wonders. This time it won’t only be two years. 

This time around, he’ll make sure that you spend eternity together. 

“Hime, look at these flowers! Who knew the castle had a garden?” You exclaim as your fingers glide over the silky petal of the peony. The flowers aren’t in season yet so it takes you back to see them in full bloom at the palace. You wouldn’t expect it anywhere else.

“I think we should go, I don’t think his majesty intended for us to be here.” Utahime’s hand wraps around your wrist, attempting to drag you away but your force is far too much for her to pull you away. 

“It’s just for a moment, Hime. I doubt anyone will notice us out here. No one is expecting us either.” You tell her, head peeking out from the bushes to see if there’s any guards around. It’s just the two of you, there’s no way for you to get caught.

“It’s not about if someone is expecting us or not, we’re just not supposed to be here.” She argues, making you click your tongue. A low laugh leaves your lips as you link your arm with her own.

“Fine then, let’s leave.” You smile at her as you begin to walk out of the garden, heading towards the entrance of the castle. 

“I don’t know what it is with you and wandering off.” She comments, quickly followed by a laugh. She wants to scold you, but she can’t keep a straight face. It’s adorable, truly. It’d be more adorable if you did it somewhere proper. The last thing she wants is to get in trouble here, where the king is known to be ruthless.

“Such a beautiful garden that only his eyes get to relish.” You respond, looking back at all the beautiful flowers of the place, quickly followed by a sneeze. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing.” She replies, and you roll your eyes. She’s right though, maybe it is a good thing. You wouldn’t last a week if you had this sort of garden. 

“Flowers don’t stay in bloom forever. I’d be just fine with a garden like this.” You say. She stays quiet, deciding not to argue with you about it. Even if she’s in the right, you’re still set on your point. 

You stop in your tracks when you notice a guard from your peripheral vision. You yank Utahime, hiding behind a bush before you can possibly get caught. Oh, it would’ve been perfect if Utahime hadn’t loudly yelped the moment you brought her down. 

“What–” She begins but you shush her. She looks at you with wide eyes, and you squeeze her arm is an attempt to help to calm her down.

You stare at each other in silence for a solid minute, hoping that the guard completely misses you. You feel a cold sweat run through you, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. And you begin to feel comfortable, but that’s your worst mistake.

“Ladies, what are you doing here?” You’ve been caught. You slowly turn your head to look up at the man that’s caught you redhanded. There’s a frown on his face as he looks down at both of you. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”

“We’re sorry.” Utahime quickly speaks up, standing up from the ground. She extends her hand for you to take, but the guard has already done so. You sheepishly smile at him, using his support to get off the ground.

“Insteresting tattoo.” You mention, fingers tracing over your own nose to point of the tattoo across the bridge of his nose. You can’t help but also mention, “I didn’t know the castle allowed that.”

“I’ll escort you back.” He doesn’t pay attention to the statement. He’s been trained to deal with this, even if it’s rare for the castle to receive visitors.

“Of course.” Your voice is suddenly sweet, trying to make up for the fact that you’ve been caught in a place where you aren’t supposed to be. You and Utahime begin to follow him as he leads you back to the castle. You take a swift look at Utahime, and you feel the nerves radiating off her.

You clear your throat and try to engage in conversation with the guard, hoping to lighten her nerves. “So what does it take to become a guard around here?”

No answer.

“Might think about becoming one. Would his majesty accept me in the castle?” You chuckle, making it painfully obvious that you’re joking around. Still, there’s no answer. “Does his majesty have a rule about not fraternizing with peasants?”

“Quit it.” Utahime tells you through gritted teeth, making you laugh. 

“It’s just some harmless chitchat. If he doesn’t want to answer, that’s on him.” You reply. You’ll keep your comments to yourself from now on. You look back at the garden as your view of it grows narrower, admiring it for one last time, knowing that you’ll never get to see it again.

“Oh–” You almost bump into the guard by not paying attention. He’s come to a sudden stop. He kneels down, lowering his head at the sight of an unusual man. You squint, trying to figure out who’s the man in the distance.

Utahime stops as well, mimicking the guard. He’s royalty, that’s clear– But you try to figure out who he is. The king is ancient at this rate… He’s been reigning for damn near a century. The man that walks towards you looks too young to be the king. Is he an unspoken prince? It’s well known the king was married twenty five years ago, it’s the only explanation.

“Your majesty.” The guard speaks, and you furrow your brows as the man comes into view.

“Bow down.” Utahime whispers, pushing your back down when she realizes you stand dumbfounded.

“No need.” The king speaks. Your eyes stare at the floor as you try to make sense of it all. Your majesty…? His hand comes into your view, filling your head with even more questions. “Please, no need to bow down to me.”

“Your majesty…” Your hand lands in his palm, and you look up at the king. You feel your breath get caught up in your chest as you look at his face. A sense of familiarity seeps from your core as you look into his eyes… Familiarity from a face that you’ve never seen before, that’s when you know that your brain plays tricks on you.

“Not you two, you stay kneeling.” The king comments when he notices the guard and your guest straightening up. The king then stares at you, a predacious look in his blue eyes; one that he attempts to hide with his sickly sweet smile. “Beloved, it’s a joy to be reunited again.”

“I beg your pardon?” You’re suddenly perplexed by the words that leave his lips. “You must be mistaken, my king. I’m not–”

“Satoru. Please. No need for such formalities from you, beloved.” He cuts you off. 

“Your majesty, that isn’t appropriate. I’m Lady Utahime’s lady-in-waiting. I’m a mere pea–” You begin, but it seems that the king has a love for cutting people off. And while you’d express annoyance with your facial expressions, shock is what takes over you when he says your name. Not beloved, but your actual name.

“We have a lot to catch up on.” He smiles, and you feel the nerves that so rarely consume you, slowly take over.

“I’m sorry–”

“Guard, escort the lady to the castle. I must speak to my beloved in private.” The king cuts you off yet again.

“You must be confusing me for someone else, I’m not your beloved, your majesty. We’ve never met.” You attempt to explain to him, as he leads you back to the garden. Pleas fall on deaf ears as he insists you walk with him. “Your majes–”

He freezes as he hears you sneeze. A reaction that makes you assume that the king is some sort of gemaphobe.

“I apologize, I can’t control it.” You sheepishly say while he slowly turns to look at you.

“Allergic to pollen?” He questions, and you hum. 

A pathetic chuckle leaves your lips before you attempt to joke, “But who isn’t these days. Everyone inside the castle must be sneezing.”

“Right, of course.” He gives a subtle nod, and you swear that a sudden gloom radiates from him. As if hearing about your mild allergies has suddenly ruined his night. “Bless you, beloved.”

“My king, I must remind you of someone but I assure you–” You begin, and though he doesn’t use his words to interrupt you, his hand goes up to your cheek. A large cold hand suddenly turns warm as he caresses your skin. You almost feel pitiful, knowing that he’s confusing you with someone else. Giving all this affection only to realize that you’re not who he’s thinking of.

“You’re her.” He says. “Doomed from the very start. You’re still her.”

[yestrday]

— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

introducing ! at the altar decorated by the blooming lotus flowers, your wrist is bound to your husband with a red string and a promise of togetherness. while the people dance and sing in celebration of the newlywed, his eyes are on you and you only— possessive through and through, even in parabandhana.

[ surpriseeeeeeee yea you did not expect this did you yeah neither did I. i just sat on my computer and decided to be productive. also did not include baizhu and mika for now cuz I got lazy. ]

warning ! yandere behavior, drúgging, manipulation, mentions of locking you away and múrder

— ADMONISHING INSTRUCTION. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “sure, sure, i’ll clean up after you go. hm? i’m not being lazy at all, just enjoying my peace and quiet.”] 

⇢ my boy is living the dream life. no nosy seniors, demanding bosses, and curious co-workers. just him and his hardworking partner and the freedom to do his research at his own time. when you’re around, he tends to slack off (though he denies it) but he does his part of the chores anyway, so you don’t really have any complaints. he’d already been living the cushy life before, but now this lifestyle is more than comfortable.

⇢ he helps you out with your work when he sees you struggling, and he lets you use him as a soundboard to work out solutions. sometimes even lets you complain. keyword: sometimes. most of the time he’ll distract you with a movie or just bring you to the bed so the two of you can read a book together. unfortunately, his tolerance towards whining is very low (reminds him too much of a certain blonde), but he still loves you enough that he’s willing to let your stress out through other means.

⇢ marriage seems to have made him a bit of a romantic, though he’ll tell you that he’s stayed the same as he was when he was still your boyfriend. whenever you’re squinting at your computer screen in frustration, you’ll be caught offguard when he presses a tender kiss to your temple and sets down a mug of coffee next to you. or while you’re talking about something or another as you eat, he’ll clasp your hands in his and press a chaste kiss to each knuckle. these gestures has you blushing and stammering all the time, reverting you back to the naive student you were when you met him. this makes him a bit smug, so you often hit him in embarrassment.

⇢ he would never look down at you. marrying you means he has acknowledged you his equal, and to be fair he doesn’t really have a habit of looking down on others. however, when he sees some pesky flies fly a bit too close, he often gets too full of himself. someone trying to smooth talk you at the cafe? haitham’s not one for pda, but he’ll wrap a sturdy bicep around your waist and watch as the poor thing trembles from his gaze. 

⇢ haitham doesn’t always tell you this, but he admires you for a lot of things. but sometimes you get a bit too… irrational, and he knows that he has to be the one to bring you down sometimes. you’re not a kid, so you should know better. besides, haitham’s always been the more rational between the two of you. sometimes bordering on…heartless, but you never tell him that. you don’t have the heart to.

⇢ he’s often the decision-maker, most of the time not even asking you what you want. he says it’s not about want, he has to take the rational decision for the both of you. you’ve always been a little… dull. it’s an endearing trait, but it’s something that has to go away as you both age. he sees the hurt flash in your eyes when he tells you this, and he thinks he can make up for it with a gentle kiss between your pretty eyes. he loves you like his equal, really, but sometimes (most of the time) you need a good talking down to.

“so you’ll continue to let your brother exploit you, despite everything he’s done to you in the past?” haitham shuts his book and stares at you with a seemingly bored gaze. “you know you don’t need to give them that solicitation, right? he’s not worth it.”

“it– it’s not about him, haitham, believe me!” you plead with him. “i’m, i’m doing this for his wife, okay? she doesn’t deserve to deliver a baby in his dingy apartment with no professionals around. it’s not fair! just because my brother was a díck doesn’t mean she deserves the cold shoulder too! have some compassion for once!” he rolls his eyes and gets up, towering above some good inches. his eyes look down at you, but his hand rests heavy on your shoulder as if trying to calm you down. “it’s not about compassion, dear. it’s about being rational. once your brother sees you softening, he’ll start asking for more and more and more and well, we know what kind of person you are.” you open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head. “you’re too soft, [y. name]. chasing around the affection of others… you don’t have to do that anymore.”

[ “this is for the both of us. i’m sure you can’t tell now, but sooner or later, you’ll thank me.” ]

— EMPYREAN REFLECTION. kaveh | کاوه

[ “you’re the — hic!— the best thing’s that ever happened to me! of– of course i’m crying! i’m not heartless!” ] 

⇢ for kaveh, your marriage was both a blessing and a cause of distress to him. a blessing, of course, because what sane man would not want to get married to you! his darling, light of his life, the one who tolerates his flaws more than any other person on teyvat! but at the same time, he can’t just let you shoulder his burdens! he can’t give you the luxury you deserve to have, you don’t deserve to be saddled with his debt, it’s– it’s just not fair!

⇢ with kaveh’s sense of aesthetics and talent for architecture, you two will have the prettiest home around! it is a must for this architect to gift you with the prettiest home you’ve ever laid eyes on. sure, he can’t give you the grandiose mansion that you deserve even with both of your savings joined, but a master architect will make the most of what he has. this is the place where he’ll make memories with you, where you’ll grow a family and your chi… children (?!??!!!!) will live. it has to be as beautiful as you.

⇢ complains like you’d never believe. he’s always been chatty, but he gets even chattier after a disagreement with a client or a run-in with a certain someone or when he hears whispers of your horrendous workplace. to anyone else, his overdramatic flair might be a bit too much to handle, but you can’t help but listen with amusement as your husband drones on and on and on and embellishing his rants with over-the-top remarks. nevertheless, in the case that you do get weary, just press a kiss on his lips— it will surely leave him an incoherent mess in no time.

⇢ a bit too eager for your praise. it’s not like people don’t praise him all the time, but it’s only your approval that he cares for. when he makes a meal that he’s proud of, he’s squirming nervously in the seat across you as he watches you take bite after bite. when he finished his part of the chores, he tends to be a bit clingy with you as he tries to fish for compliments. it’s your choice to cave in so easily or play around with him, but when you do utter a compliment, know that you’ll be left with a gooey pile of mush cuddling into you.

⇢ on the other hand, kaveh absolutely cannot handle fights with you. fighting is a normal thing between couples, but he gets so absolutely wrecked it’s unreal. your look of disappointment, the glare you gave him, the fed-up sigh when you push him away and say that you need some time away from him… they all drive him insane. he curses himself, wondering why’d he have to go and open his stupid mouth and fuck everything up. you’re not wrong, never wrong, and it should be him to take the blame. the longer the fight, the more his wellness and self-confidence cracks. it’s a common sight to see him groveling on the ground, for your forgiveness, begging for you to notice him again. the sight is so pathetic that you can’t bear to look away.

⇢ the most insecure husband to ever exist and grows even worse with every fight you two might have had in the past. anyone who approaches you has him tensing up and tightening his grip on you, but a raised brow from you has him reluctantly loosening his grip and shamefully looking away. he’s plagued with thoughts of you leaving (because why would you stay with a wreck like him?) and overthinks every friendly gesture you give towards anyone who isn’t him (is that how you smile with someone who isn’t a complete fool?). he’s a pushover and craves your love and attention the most. if you love being an asshole and having someone completely around your finger, there’s no perfect husband to get more than kaveh.

“kaveh…” you start hesitantly, brows furrowed as you put a hand on his shoulder. “kaveh… there’s really no need for you to do all this.” but despite your gentle words, it only makes kaveh flinch and bury his weeping face even more into your chest. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he keeps whispering with a voice ragged from the amount of apologies he’s repeated. “i won’t do it again. whatever i’ve done please just forgive me. i can’t, i can’t stand it!” he looks up at you and that pretty face of his is ruined with tears. “please come back to me. you don’t have to sleep at that inn anymore. i can’t handle you not being with me anymore.” your grip on his shoulder tightens, and your expression seems to twist between a grimace and guilt. the only reason you stayed at an inn was because you were a coward, and you couldn’t handle watching kaveh break down as he beats himself up for a mistake that you caused. this fight was your fault to begin with, but the only one ruined was the innocent one. “i… i forgive you, dear,” you hushedly whisper, with the audacity of a man who did nothing but take advantage. “i forgive you. no matter what you’ve done.” and when he brightens up and smiles so prettily, your heart squeezes in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss sweeter than you deserve.

[ “wh… what are you apologizing for…? there’s no need to look at me like that…! you can blame me all you like!” ]

— VERDANT STRIDER. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “once again, i told you not to eat your boss’ baking! no, i don’t care if they looked nice! they. are. poisonous!” ]

⇢ he’s more at ease now that he doesn’t have to tolerate idiots who think eating poisonous mushrooms recklessly count as experiments or co-workers who tell him stupid jokes all the time. it’s a less stressful environment now… at least, that’s what he thinks. so why do you keep coming home barely alive?! you’ll find tighnari fussing over you and nagging at your office’s poor working environment.

⇢you’ll have the prettiest garden in the whole neighborhood, if not the whole world! the research data he can acquire from the plants in his backyard is limited, so it’s mostly a hobby of his. of course, he doesn’t just grow whatever there! there’s tons of medicinal herbs growing there and there’s a shed you both built where he can experiment wherever he likes. whenn you’re off work, you like to idle the time away in the garden while tighnari is hard at work on another of his concoctions. simply admiring his focused face is enough to put the stress of work behind you, and you think it’d be prettier if you tucked a flower behind his ear. but you never learn, do you? he launches off to another lecture about why you shouldn’t pluck flowers thoughtlessly while you daydream about his pretty face.

⇢ please please please don’t bring him to any work parties, lest you want to see the entire world burn. he still has that dry sarcasm that you oh so love, but he’s ruthless when it comes to your boss and your more unpleasant co-workers. if any of them try to act chummy with you, he immediately raises a brow and gives them the side-eye. he combats whatever fake-ass comment they have with a dry retort, leaving you panicking and trying him to stop it. but no one stops tighnari in verbal combat, and before long he’s revealed your boss’ and co-workers' vulnerabilities and have them deflating like a balloon.

⇢ tighnari always knows how to make the perfect brew, his teas always the perfect blend of both taste and remedy. it’s too bad though, that you always fall asleep before you can manage to finish a single pot. whenever you awake from a tea-induced slumber, your body feels strangely heavy but you can’t complain about the sleep. your husband is always the first thing you see from these naps, his fluffy tail wrapped around your legs and his big eyes staring intently at your face.

⇢ whenever he mixes in the drugs in your food or tea, tighnari’s tail swishes back and forth as he begins thinking of your cute expressions while you’re half-sober. sometimes he doesn’t put the usual dose and instead just halves it, just to see you flailing to get a grip on your senses and reaching out to your oh-so-innocent husband for help. he often chastises himself for this… dirty behavior, but the devil in his mind gleefully reminds him that this counts as research. the test subject just happened to be his trusting partner for life.

⇢ tighnari isn’t above imprisonment. it’s less for the thought of protecting you and more for his personal benefit. he likes to tell himself this is strictly research, but he can’t deny the awestruck look on his face as he greedily eats up every expression of your drugged face. when you grasp onto his clothes and lean on him for support… it makes him shudder with delight. you’re so cute when your system is laced with drugs, and even cuter when you look at him like he’s your entire world. he wants you to rely on him… and in turn, he wants to abuse that over reliance.

“you look better like this,” he murmurs as he brushes your freshly bathed hair. your figure is slumped in your chair like a doll, which isn’t far from the truth from how he handles you like one. he holds you gently, like porcelain, but you don’t react. you are too knocked out from the dose he had slipped into your tea awhile ago. he leans into your face, tutting at the dark circles under your eyes. “look at this… clear neglect of your health. i keep telling you to sleep, but you never listen to me, do you?” he sighs before focusing his attention back to your hair. “you’re so stubborn sometimes, you know. i barely know what to do with you.” he spends the next few moments in silence, rubbing cream into and ointments into your face. you smell slightly of lemongrass now, thanks to the bath he’s given you. tomorrow when you wake up, you will marvel at the softness of your skin and the clearness of your mind, before you throw yourself into another week of overwork. like always. tighnari regrets giving you the sleeping drug now. maybe he should’ve added a dose of the aphrodisiac drug he’s just finished. with the way his feline eyes zero into your blissful face and the eager swaying of his tail, he can just barely hold himself back now.

[ “aaah, i’ve run out of your meds again. oh, don’t you worry, i’ll make you some more. it’s nice how your body is so… receptive to my medicine ♡” ]

— JUDICATOR OF SECRETS. cyno | κύων 

[ “... we’re married… …what? i honestly didn’t think i’d come this far.” ]

⇢while there’s no other man you could imagine to spend the rest of your life with, you’re inwardly groaning about the amount of dad jokes you have to put up with later on in life. sure, you love cyno’s goofy lil personality, but you think you can only take too many stupid jokes before you go crazy. you voice this concern to cyno, who just gives you a reassuring hand on your shoulder and says he can handle you just fine if you do. you’re not quite sure what this implies.

⇢ quite sulky, but he refuses to own up to the fact. sometimes you get a little distracted with one of the neighborhood children, start chatting up one of the kind neighbors, or meet one of your co-workers. you tend to get a little bit distracted by them, and while cyno believes that he’s not overly bothered by this, he admits that he is a little bit miffed about you not paying attention to them. he also gets pouty when work starts taking up of your time and you start to neglect him, so expect him to just shut the laptop close and demand you to eat dinner with him without rushing to get your job done. 

⇢ he used to scare the neighborhood kids away with just one look and you always had to comfort him and pat him on the back in sympathetic understanding. “maybe you’ll get them next time,” you had joked, handing him an ice cream as he sulked on the park’s bench. “one of your jokes should do the trick.” you really shouldn’t have suggested that, because after another trip to the park he stared those kids down with his same stoic expression and cracked one of the corniest jokes known to man. every kid looked at him like he was stupid. now no one takes him seriously. well, at least they like playing with him now???

⇢ overprotective, like over overprotective. he knows you can handle going outside the house on your own, and hell, he might have no qualms with your workplace. but the more you complain, the more paranoid he gets until he’s staking out the site for himself. touchy co-workers? cruel bosses? he could easily have their corpses fed to the dogs. he is a protector of justice, after all, and what is justice but not killing those who lay a hand on their partner?

⇢ it’s not very easy to just push him over the edge, but he can and has the will to lock you away. it’s the modern world, no one’s going to have it out for a salary worker slaving day in and out for a corporation, but still. he’s made plenty of enemies when he was still in the force and there’s a paranoia eating at him whenever you go out of the front door. when he does lock you away, he’s as gentle as he can be, even with the stench of blood all over him. this is all for your sake after all, and he couldn’t bear to see you hurt when he had the power of protecting you.

“cy,” you huff in exasperation, looking up from your laptop as he glares down at you from behind it. “what in the world are you talking about? they’re my co-worker, my superior. you can’t just tell me to stop talking to them. i need their help!” “what help could you possibly need from them when you have me?” he huffs back, crossing his arms. “i’m telling you. they’re dangerous. i… i just know it, okay?” “what could a retired general possibly know about handling excel sheets?” when his face falters, you sigh and shut the laptop closed. “look, i know you just want to protect me and i appreciate that, really. but come on, cy, don’t be unreasonable.” the pressed line of his lips tells you that he has something against being called that, but you press on. “the company does background checks on their employees. it’s safe, i promise.” you press a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. “sit here and calm yourself down, okay? i’ll handle dinner tonight.” he watches your back as you disappear into the kitchen, humming a bright tune that offsets the stormy look in his eyes. he could tell you all about his time in the workforce— the violations he’s made, the blood on his hands, and the enemies he’s made— but he won’t. not if it means breaking this beautiful life he’s created with you. but that’s okay, that’s fine. he’s been trained to adapt to the situation and to work with the shadows.

[ “even if you don’t have a care in the world… i’ll be right behind you. wherever. whenever.” ]

[dior-luxury]

HI

💐 here to confess my love because your twst ficlets are SO FREAKIN GOOD I AM LITERALLY FCKING DYING RN (out of love!)

My humble self has come to beg for yandere lilia bc i am a hopeless lilia simp 🙂‍↕️

If the inspo hits and you are so inclined, please feed the poor starving peon crouched outside your doorstep. They are probably not feral, but they havent eaten in days, and may faint for several hours after consuming a single morsel of food.

But also no pressure! I honestly just also want to pick your brain for this cuz you’re SO GOOD at writing him in character

Lilia Vanrouge As A Yandere

( ✧ ) ────── yandere stories . yandere/angst - f!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] lilia vanrouge

- [𝐩:𝐬] Yandere Behavior . Gaslighting and Isolation . Mind Control/Memory Alteration . Romanticized Toxic Behavior . Power Imbalance . Implied Imprisonment . Dark Fantasy Themes . Ambiguous Consent . Potential Identity Loss

Note: Tried to keep it creepy but still true to Lilia’s charm- y’know, “haha I might’ve kidnapped you but I’m still adorable” energy. Hope it gives you chills and also maybe a little “wait why is this kinda hot tho” moment LMAO 💕 Let me know if you want versions with other characters!! ♡(｡•́‿•̀｡)

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia Vanrouge is ancient, powerful, and deceptively playful — a fae who has watched centuries pass like falling cherry blossoms. But even immortals are not immune to obsession, especially when their hearts — long dormant — are unexpectedly stirred. And when an immortal falls in love, they fall forever.

You were just a human — mortal, fleeting, fragile. But Lilia found you fascinating.

At first, it was innocent. You made him laugh. You were kind in a way that reminded him of simpler, long-forgotten eras. He would appear unexpectedly around you, draped in upside-down smiles and playful banter, his glowing eyes always glinting with something unreadable. You thought it was harmless attention.

You were wrong.

He was watching.

Lilia didn’t need to sleep like you did. So during the deep, quiet hours of the night, he’d wander — to your dorm, your classroom, even your dreams, using faint, ancient magic to peek into the worlds behind your eyes. Every expression you made, every person you smiled at, every fleeting interaction — he catalogued it.

You never noticed the bats near your window at night. You should have.

Things escalated slowly.

Lilia began appearing wherever you were — always just in time to “protect” you. A spilled potion in alchemy? Lilia was there. An overzealous duel from an NRC student? Lilia stepped between, laughing while he disarmed them. He said he was just helping, but there was something sharp in his gaze when others got too close to you.

At first, you thought it was your imagination. Then your phone began behaving oddly. Messages unsent. Calls dropped. Friends pulling away after odd, brief conversations.

“Are you lonely, little bat?” he’d ask with mock pity, holding a tray of snacks or a handmade charm. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be here.”

He didn’t look like he was joking anymore.

Lilia’s obsession is sweet — like a poisoned wine.

He still jokes, flutters around, and teases. But now there’s an edge to it. He refers to you as his. He leaves you gifts that seem impossible to procure: relics from the Briar Valley, enchanted music boxes that sing only your name, or petals from flowers that bloom once every thousand years.

When you try to talk to someone about it, strange things happen. People don’t remember your conversations. Even Crowley avoids eye contact when you mention Lilia’s name in a fearful tone.

You begin to suspect he’s altering memories. His magic is old — deep-rooted, almost forgotten by modern mages. You're not sure how much of your life is still your own.

And then you wake up one morning to find an old lullaby playing softly in your room — one you never learned, but find yourself humming anyway.

He’s been whispering it into your mind at night.

Eventually, he tells you.

Not in a romantic flourish, but in the still quiet after a storm, when he’s rescued you (again) from a danger you suspect he may have orchestrated.

“I’ve lived long enough to see empires fall and rise. But nothing has captivated me as much as you,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers cold and gentle. “You don’t understand what that means to someone like me. I’ve chosen you. That doesn’t happen more than once in a few millennia.”

You try to pull away. He only smiles.

“You’ll understand. In time. Humans always break so easily… but love can make you last.”

He kisses your forehead. And you swear you feel a mark burn there, invisible, but real — an ancient fae seal claiming you.

Lilia wouldn’t keep you in chains — not literal ones.

No, he’s too refined for that. Instead, he builds you a world where you don’t want to leave.

A hidden part of NRC’s grounds, warped by old fae magic. Days feel like dreams. You stop remembering time — memories blend, feelings shift. Lilia is always there: doting, smiling, grooming you into someone perfect for eternity.

Your dreams start to end in his voice. Your fears vanish — because you can no longer recall what they were.

Even if you tried to escape, you’re not sure where to go.

Because by now, you aren’t even certain who you were before he loved you.

You age. He does not.

But when your body grows frail, Lilia offers you a choice — sealed with a kiss, bound in blood and starlight.

“Become mine. Truly. Let me preserve you… as I have always longed to.”

You hesitate. Just for a moment.

He smiles.

You no longer dream of the outside world.

You no longer remember why you ever wanted to.

[blue-jisungs]

hellooooo! CONGRATS ON HITTING 8K FOLLOWERS LIKE WOWW ALJDKAJSS IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU THIS IS SO COOL AND AMAZING!!!! now i saw your post and i know i dont write a lot, but you’re still one of the reasons i go on tumblr because i love seeing you write and just you talking with people through asks! now my ask is Stickers and Soul (Shota Haku) from P1Harmony! I think stickers if they’re so adorable like aldjakjdnss like just putting them in each others arms and things! Cute! Or making something funny on paper with them! Anyways! Its your call what you want to do or if you want to do it!

and again! Congrats on 8k!!!! You deserve it!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ LIKE A STICKER 🧸ྀི — putting stickers on soul’s face ( wc 666 lol )

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HOW HAPPY THAT REQ GOT ME!!! i just love stickers so much and i love soul and it’s actually a perfect req so i hope you enjoy it!!! esp like,, i JUST saw them and they wont leave my mind im so happy someone reqd for piwon<333 and also thank you so much !! <3 it means the world to me <333

@kstrucknet

“wait, shota, don’t move” you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

the boy sitting underneath you just stuck his tongue out in a playful manner, not caring one bit. you peeked at the switch in his hands – he was clearly too busy with mining.

you sighed softly and leaned to grab another sheet of stickers. you eyed them, humming in thought which one to choose.

then, you glanced at your boyfriend’s face. he already had some stickers on. a small cat one on his cheek, some flowers and butterflies. there were a couple on his forehead and a fries one on his chin.

“okay, i found more iron” he announced and you glanced at the screen of his switch again.

“nice” you smiled and suddenly an idea bloomed in your mind.

you started humming a random tiktok sound that has been stuck in your head and chose the sticker. then, you gently grabbed shota’s chin.

he followed, finally looking up from his game. his lips parted slightly, his gaze hard to crack.

you took the sticker and gently placed it on his nose, letting go of his chin to press it a bit to make sure it won’t fall off.

you admired your artwork with a proud grin. but you weren’t the only one – shota was also adoring you right now. you just looked so happy, so pretty.

you started to get a little cramped up from sitting for so long in his lap so you decided to take a picture and get off.

“let me show you” you grinned and reached for your phone, opening your camera.

you two giggled at the silly faces he made (and also one or two normal ones, when he was still to busy staring at you to notice the phone). once done, you tossed your phone to the side and was about to get up, when shota pulled you back.

“huh? what is it?” you asked, eyes wide.

he put away his switch and guided your hands to his cheeks. his own hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs drawing circles on your hoodie.

you traced the stickers carefully, not wanting them to fall off.

the small alien face you put on his nose was so goofy you just couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“will you kiss me or do i have to put a sticker on my lips too…?” shota asked suddenly and you looked him in the eye, a flustered blush forming on your face.

“hmph, i don’t think that’s necessary” you teased and cupped his face gently before shortening the distance.

his lips were soft but oh, so starved for you. shota welcomed your lips on his with a happy hum, the hands on your waist pulling you even closer.

before you could deepen the sweet kiss, he shook his head and pulled away. you didn’t even have time to ask him what’s wrong when suddenly, he flipped you over so you were now laying on the couch with your head against the pillow.

flustered and flabbergasted, you had no words to stutter as he hovered over you with a devilish smirk.

“now my turn!” he announced happily, waving the sticker sheets in front of your face. oh.

you let out a small sigh but couldn’t help to smile wildly.

“we’re gonna match” shota said, a small focused frown forming on his face as he searched for the perfect stickers to put on your face.

when he found the first one, he gently grabbed it on the top of his pointer finger and leaned his face close to yours. you could feel his breath fanning on your cheeks and you subconsciously turned your head a bit to hide your flustered state.

“see, now you know how hard it was to stay still” he giggled and eventually placed the small heart sticker under your eye.

yeah, you’re just now realizing what a torture it’s gonna be.

shota, however, seemed to enjoy this a little too much.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver,, @litepowee ,, @l3visbby

[m1d-45]

Midas, i'm FREE!

Work has been EXHAUSTING since the last time we chatted on tumblr, but i think your request box is open, and i'm feeling a request of cuddling otters of fontaine with platonc/sisterly bond with Siegewinne!

OTTERS! I fucking LOVE those little guys they look so fluffy!

And Siegewinne is so adorable and has Wrio for a -cough Father/boss cough- so Yeah.

-🥘Stew

a wondrous earth

note: i definitely did not realize that you didn't mention sagau at midnight so. just pretend okay shhh

word count: 2k

-> warnings: nothing explicit but does take place post-fontaine AQ and kinda assumes you know the lore.. containes a few wink/nudge references at most.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

teyvat was beautiful. even through a screen, you could lose yourself wandering for hours, taking in the flowing rivers, delicate flowers, the way the clouds swept over the sky like they themselves were savoring the view. wildlife scattered the paths, butterflies in the air and birds chirping from every tree. sometimes you turned off the music and dialogue just to sit and bask in it.

it was no different now that you actually were in teyvat. if anything, the heightened detail only deepened your love for the sights. you could watch every feather shift, not limited by graphics and models, feeling the spray of saltwater across your skin. perhaps it was simply because fontaine was where you’d first awoken, but it would always hold a soft spot in your heart.

the city itself was stunning, with pristine white buildings that shined with even the slightest sun, the meka moving with fluid gears that barely whirred as they passed. coins littered the bottom of every fountain, the smell shifting from perfume to fried food to fresh fruit, tempting from their stall. you could have spent the entire day roaming its streets and only barely brush the surface of everything to see inside. flora, fauna, people and meka and melusines and you, the streets just populated enough to be welcoming without crossing into overwhelming.

it could be argued that its beauty was due to being the centerpiece of the nation. perhaps outside of its mother of pearl walls were ruined homes and muddied streets that would surely dim your favor, and perhaps that was why neuvillette was so gun-shy about recommending it to you. though he was very professional about it, you’d played enough of the archon quest to know that his insistence on tending to you personally was more out of worry than any sort of actual need. your years of amassed mora had found its way cleanly into your pocket upon arrival, and that combined with your knowledge of fontaine would certainly be enough on its own to find you a nice, cozy life, even without the whole “god of all” thing.

that seemed a bit too intimidating anyway. no, you were more interested in watching romaritime flowers bloom in the rain, and whatever other duties came of your title could wait. celestia had yet to come knocking and most of the higher officials seemed allergic to even thinking of suggesting something else to do, so your time was your own.

(while it was a bit funny, their want to help seemed to push the line of fervency. it was worrying, and another reason to spend some time out wandering on your own. they’d been through enough, and the last thing you wanted was to be another weight on furina’s shoulders.)

thankfully, fontaine was vast, and held no shortage of sight to see. with a bit of persuasion—read: barely hinting at it once while navia happened to be in the room—you were equipped with a travel bag and set off on your own, heading north. unfortunately, there was no way to cross to the other islands without taking the aquabus, and you did want to see the institute and the opera house for yourself.

fortunately, fontaine’s waters were fresh.. or, at least fresh enough that one could swim in it without a mask… or oxygen tank…

you’d figure it out. there was not a single chance that you wouldn’t at least try. even if you didn’t have whatever blessing that allowed the traveller and others to dive freely, the elements seemed to like you well enough, and who would pass up on the chance to see fontaine’s waters for themself anyway?

not you, certainly. you crouched in the shallows and cupped the waves in your hands, bringing it to your mouth and taking a cautious breath.

it felt, expectedly, perfectly fine. normal, even. you let the water fall, but didn’t exhale anything else but air. there was no pressure in your lungs, no burning need to cough, just an odd warmth that spread from your throat downwards. you didn’t know why—you’d somewhat assumed that vision wielders had some sort of internal “gills” that pushed out excess water—but shrugged it off, double-checking that your bag was safely stashed within a bush before wading deeper. the water was a bit cool, but not cold, welcoming you in like a freshly-made bed after a long day.

unsurprisingly, fontaine’s great lake was just as beautiful as the city. in the shallows alone, romaritime flowers gleamed, reflecting the light they absorbed from the sun over and over within their thin petals. fish in rainbows of colors flocked among the depths, rays of light reaching down and inviting you to follow.

the fish were mostly apathetic to your presence. they neither fled nor turned, just allowing you by as if you were one of them. the few meka were a bit more curious, coming up and bumping your hand to ask why you had descended with them. with a bit of coaxing, you let one of the smaller ones allow you to hold onto its fins, pulling you deeper still. crabs scuttled along the floor, stingrays following the dappled rays of light. even this far down, you could still see easily, watching algae sway and jellyfish bloom without error.

at some point, your meka stalled, lingering in space and turning around. its searchlight flicked over you and the sand, inching back the way you came. was this the edge of its patrol route? you waved it goodbye and it waited a moment more before finally moving away, slowly at first before returning to speed. there were probably others you could take back anyway… provided you remembered where you were anyway.

…that was a problem for later. you turned and swam, following the valley. it was getting a bit shallower, and the sun was beginning to dim, but your curiosity was not yet satisfied. you pushed, and continued. a deeper valley of the ocean came into view, a deep bowl marked by large columns of bare rock on the far side. there were more jellyfish around here, and a few stingrays with shining blue skin. you swam to some, curious, but as soon as you got close it turned and met you more than halfway, circling twice like a cat who’s owner had finally come home. you pet over its wings, the transparent blue layer making your fingers buzz. the ray pushed into your hand, and when it left for another cheerful circle, your palm was blue. despite the fact that you hadn’t felt tired or in any way abnormal since diving, the sight of the film over your hands settled confidence over your mind. whatever came, you’d be able to handle it.

why? you had no idea. was there really a way for you to to absorb xenochromatic abilities? was this even that anyway? who cared, really, if you weren’t hurt?

you pet the stingray again with your afflicted hand—not wanting to stain both, in case it was somehow something harmful—and look around the valley, soaking in the view. the sunlight had turned slightly amber, but it never hindered the sea’s beauty. pink and blue jellyfish, octopi shooting pearls of water back and forth. how, you had no idea, but you weren’t going to ask. not that they’d be able to answer, anyway.

tired out, the stingray settled by your side, tail loosely flicking to keep in place as the water shifted. despite the fact that it had definitely touched your skin elsewhere, only your hand remained blue. that cemented in your mind that this was one of the xenochromatic creatures, though to do so without the odd lasso was interesting.. then again, if you could make flames sway and wind pause, then who’s to say you couldn’t throw a few water blades?

the water hummed, something coarse brushing your other arm. you turned, but there was no other animal wondering about your presence. instead, after a brief moment, you recognized the figure swimming beside you as sigewinne, just not as you remembered her. she was really only recognizable through her antennae and bright red eyes, the bright nurse’s uniform of her standard model replaced by some sort of wetsuit and a thick belt around her waist. her heart-shaped purse was also replaced with a basket tucked into her elbow, but the lid over it was latched closed, preventing you from seeing inside. once she saw that she had your attention, she pointed up, and you followed her to the surface, albeit slowly. you didn’t really want to leave, and if she was anything like the others then she’d ask you to come into the fortress.

you surfaced beside her, taking a moment to adjust to the air, coughing twice while she pushed some hair from her eyes. it made sense she’d have an easier time adjusting, but you still felt a bit foolish. what happened to the whole “god of all” business?

“first water?” oh, that one was new. the others in the city tended to use titles related to justice. “may i ask what you’re doing out here so late?”

“i was just exploring, that’s all. what are you doing?”

she blinks, then pulls up her basket, undoing the latch and holding out. within, you can see some various plants, each wrapped and bundled tightly. “i was just collecting some herbs. most of the workers have retired and i’m not usually needed around this hour. are you cold at all?”

she looks genuinely worried, which makes you smile despite yourself. “no, i’m alright, thank you.”

if you were talking with anyone else, you’re certain they would have pushed. everyone in the city seemed hell-bent on making sure you never so much as caught sight of something imperfect.. but sigewinne just relaxes, nodding. “okay. if you’re looking for somewhere nice, may i suggest going east? there’s always otters there, even at this hour.”

otters. you’d almost forgotten about the star of the seas, so distracted by meka and your new powers. “that sounds lovely. would you mind showing me where?”

“of course!” she smiles and you swear you’ve never seen anyone happier, following her beneath the waves. fortunately, your abberant power faded when you surfaced, leaving you able to swim beside her without fear of acidentally triggering it. maybe you can ask about it later…

regardless, the trip is short. she takes you up into the shallows, onto a flatter plateau only about ten feet deep. true to her word, otters dot the surface, likely drawn by the plentiful clams in the sand. the few swimming about eagerly swim up to you, a sharp contrast to the other sealife. they nudge clams into your hand and curl eagerly into your hands, their fur soft and dense. they can hold their breath for longer than you’d think they’d be able to, letting you settle in the sand and pet them for as long as you wish. the water is brighter too, the edges of their fur catching the light.

with time, the sun will fall and your friends will tire, but it is still evening. you watch as sigewinne plays catch with an otter and its shell, smiling at the sight. it’s nice to be like this, tucked beneath the waves with someone who treats you almost comedically casually. maybe its due to her nature, maybe its because she’s a doctor, but that doesn’t really matter. you’re definitely going to savor time spent with someone so sweet.

[nillosgarden]

``𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞. - sukuna.,,

▪︎ 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: true form!sukuna (heian era) x siren!reader.

▪︎ 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,745 words.

▪︎ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mentions of death.

▪︎ 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Sukuna is a feared king, and when he heard about something more powerful than him, he decided he would burn it to ashes, and destroy everything correlated to it. But all went wrong, at the moment he found a beautiful... Woman?

``𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳.

`` 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱, and English is not my first language! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. <3

There was a time when everyone lived with fear, being affected by horror and all of the sins that made their scary nightmares. The cause of these so-called fear and horror was the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna. A terrifying man who turned himself into a powerful curse, making himself the owner of people's minds, looting villages, taking women like prizes, and turning them into his concubines. All of the sorcerers that tried to win a battle against him were only turned into shreads and bathed Sukuna in their filthy blood.

But, the tales once said something about a magic lake that could clean your soul, turning all of your dust in the most beautiful gold, and send away all your sins. People tried to find this place, only to crumble and rot in their disgrace, doing all of this to relieve their conscience about their crimes whilst mortals. Nobody found this lake, centuries passed, and nothing. But the awful man decided that he would find it and kill all of the magic that he could see there, only to watch the light fading. He couldn't stand something more powerful than him.

Walking across the land, the king only found death and desperation in his way.

"It was meant for give people some hope, but it only killed them and their disgusting dreams of freedom. These damn fools..." He said with an wicked grin in his lips, his eyes showing no remorse or compassion for the people who died in their try, his crimson orbs glowing in the dead of the night.

The forest that he walked in was dense, dark and unforgivable, its trees had no leaves, the roots snaked their way in the ground, making it more challenging not to trip. The sky was nowhere to see, covered by the rotten branches that dared to fall in someone's head. There was a whistle made by the wind that danced between the tree trunks, making a shiver run down whatever spine that was in the way. A feeling of sorrow, a sadness that made the heart ache, the eyelids got heavy, the vision started to be foggy. It looked like the forest was moving, creating a labyrinth of its own to trick anyone's mind, driving them insane second by second.

But the powerful king was not someone who was so easily mistaken or lost, he had a mind that could envy anyone who dared to look inside it. The rote he took was found to be full of dead bodies, rotting into the damp ground, their faces were hopeless. He could almost feel sorry, but he was obviously not, he didn’t feel that kind of emotion, he couldn't. After all, he was the King of Curses, he wouldn't feel remorse or guilt over some trivious thing.

Trespassing by the corpses, walking some miles ahead, he found a ground that had grass, sakuras with blooming flowers, a smell of life in the air, and now the sky could be seen with a beautiful and shiny sun. The wind doesn’t whistled anymore, it singed a sweet lullaby, like it tried bring some peace into a traveler's heart. But all of it couldn't stop the chaos and the storm that was seeping beneath the skin of the King of Curses, urging to be released. Oh, how he would destroy every piece of happiness that existed in this annoying place.

Then, there it was. The Lake of Redemption, its waters were cristaline, so clean and joyful, so... beautiful. Some butterflies flied above it, the birds were chirping happily, and the sun bathed the water, making it look heavenly.

A little ahead, a curious pair of eyes looked at him, above the water. Admiring his form: four arms, two faces, four crimson eyes, pinkish hair, and those tattoos... Well, for them, it was a sight to be seen.

Feeling eyes over him, he searched for the owner, finding (eye color) orbs. Squinting his eyes to the being, he saw it disappear in the water. A few seconds later, a woman with long hair rested her arms in the edge of the lake, showing her upper body to him. Captivated by her form, he couldn't tear his eyes from her. But, he saw something moving in the water, and checked himself. A long siren tail, moving happily, like the woman was happy to see him.

Lowering his body, he sat by the edge, crossing his legs and resting his jaw in the left hand, fascinated by her being, he felt like starting a conversation.

The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, because they were both admiring each other's features, drinking in the different type of beauty that they had. Lost in the track of time, they were hopelessly gravitating around the strange feeling that pumped in their hearts. Sukuna wasn't known for being such a dedicated admirer, but for her... He would do anything he could to see her face everyday. The woman, suddenly came with a thought, sharing with him.

"You are here to kill me, aren't you?" Her voice was quiet, soft. It sounded like a whisper, because she wouldn't dare to indulge him in such actions. The siren was curious, because... Why such a creature with such an powerful aura came to that place? He didn't show any guilt, or remorse... Unlike the other beings that came a long ago to the magical lake.

His expression was unreadable, almost if he was thinking of how he would put it in words: should he tell her first? Or just kill her and burn that damn place to ashes? It made the king overthink. And he didn’t liked it. Not at all.

"My plans doesn't belong to your knowledge, little one." These were the only words that came out of his mouth after the long minutes of waiting for an answer.

"...I understand." Her face became a little serious, but she lifted her hand to touch the tattoos that painted his arm, the thoughtful face became a little admired. Her touches ignited a spark in him, like it left warmth where it has passed. A smile spread across her features, while he looked at her attentively, enamored by her.

"Come with me."

Her face became a little shocked, her eyes widen a little, the surprise evident. She looked at him incredulously, like he was telling something absurd.

"I'm sorry, but why? And... How? How can... How can I -" Interrupted by his hand cupping her face, he brought it closer to his own. The crimson eyes looked more inviting than scary, and she never knew that feeling before. Before she could ever think about his intentions, he pulled her off the water. Her tail became a pair of legs because of the lack of spell, spell which was created by the lake to give her a tail and make her his guardian.

... A while ago, a young woman was wounded by a group of curses that hunted her. Running between the tree trunks, she looked to the trail she left behind, scared of the demons that were after her. She ran for her life, for her own sake. She was just a little traveler who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Running into the depths of the forest, she found herself lost in the woods, and the worst was that a storm was approaching. The more she ran, the more desperate she came. Her breath came in small pants, her feet were bleeding because of the rocks on the ground, her face was damp with sweat, and her clothes were ripped in so many places.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't stop. Only run, run, and run. She ran into a cliff, and before she could stop herself, she fell from it. Crashing into the ground, rolling down the hill... Down and down. Her body was limp, she broke a few bones, but she rose from the ground, still fighting for her life, dragging her body across the floor while her legs refused to move. The more she moved, the more her broken bones hurt. Everything seemed bad until her eyes found a lake. A lake full of life, but at the same time, seemed to lack it. So, reluctantly, fighting for a little more time, fighting for more life, she went to the edge of the lake, and as she dipped her hands to drink some of the water, she realized that the bruises on her fingers and wrists were healed by a kind of... golden light. Without thinking twice, she threw her body in there, and when she least expected it, the impossible happened.

Laying in the big man's arms, she looked confused by all the memories that suddenly came into her mind.

"You suddenly looked scared, little one. Some came up in your mind? Or are you just scared of me?" Sukuna said, his voice lacking the sarcasm it used to have.

"Scared of you? Why would I be scared of you?"

Looking deep into his eyes, she saw something she couldn't describe. He seemed to know something she doesn't, and it consumed her thoughts. What could he know? And why does he wants me so suddenly?

"You don't know who I am?" He asked her, looking somehow pissed. How could someone in this land don't know who the King of Curses is?

"One day, one woman told me of a god in land. One that made everyone else fear him, and be in debt with him. He destroyed villages and killed people, and was an ugly monster with a rotten heart."

[Your name] said it with doubt, testing the seas before diving in. All she received from him was a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes, making everything more confusing. "That lady said the right thing. And what you think about it?"

Her eyes held something he didn’t know, but it made him feel things he didn't wanted before.

"You don't look like a monster to me, and ugly? Far from it. You are beautiful, something divine. An enticing and rare being in this world, dare I say."

After these words, he couldn't bear the feeling that bubbled hot in his skin. Some kind of feral desire, because the innocent and oblivious look she gave him, praising him at that level... Stirred something deep inside him. And he wouldn't hold back anymore.

Sukuna was obssessed with the light he was supposed to kill.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Old Man - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Rating: E (I love this man). Unprotected p in v, fingering, the usual. Also brief subtle mentions of infertility. They fuck at a party, y'all. Word Count: 1845 a/n: I don't think y'all understand how much I love Javier Peña. Like...I love him. Anyway, he's obviously the right choice for PINK day of Raindro!

His dad is often quick to call him old. It's just a joke, one that Chucho takes the opportunity to make whenever possible, much to Javi's dismay, but you can't help but laugh, especially when he'll climb into bed next to you with complaints of an aching back.

The ladies at the farmer's market aren't much better, teasing your husband as he peruses the brightly colored flowers. They interrogate him incessantly about when the next generation of Peña children will appear on the ranch, completely oblivious to the fact that it's not something in the cards for the two of you. It's something you've come to accept, but it's all you can do to bury your face in the blooms in an attempt to hide the flush in your cheeks when they suggest that he's not getting any younger and that perhaps he should try harder.

You make fun of him too, every once and a while when he makes a bad joke or struggles to use the new computer you'd purchased for your home office, situations that soon evolve into a horizontal demonstration of just how wrong you are. But today, as you sit at your niece's third birthday party, you can't help but see it. The stiffness to his shoulders after one of your brother's kids finally hops off his back, the extra creases in the corner of his eye when he smiles before kissing you, and the huff he lets out when he collapses in the chair at your side.

"Tired?" you ask, immediately standing so you can move to sit on his thigh, something that has him groaning slightly and adjusting his knee to better accommodate you. You simply laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lean in to kiss his cheek.

"Exhausted," Javi willingly admits, his own hands settling on your waist as the two of you watch the chaos erupting in front of you. "I'm so glad that we're not the ones who have to put these monsters to bed every night."

You smile before resting your head against his, "they sure make a person feel old, don't they?"

He hums, "we're not old, Cariño."

"Come on, Jav, you can admit it. We're getting old."

He tightens his grip around you, "we're not. I'm perfectly capable of keeping up with them and so are you."

You raise your eyebrows as you pull back to glance down at him, "is that so? Is that why the last time we watched them you were passed out on the couch by 9PM?"

"Hey now, I was up with them at 4 in the morning if I remember correctly," he frowns, fingers tapping against your hip. "And we took them to the zoo that day."

Laughter bubbles in your chest, "I know, I know. But also," you lean in to whisper against his ear, "it's not necessarily a bad thing that we're getting old."

"Not old," he returns instantly once more, "but what do you mean?"

"It means that no one is gonna miss us if we disappear for a few minutes."

Javier sucks in a breath and you're on your feet a moment later, one of his hands steady against the small of your back as he leads you toward the house. You're giggling the whole way, straight through the door and past the kitchen that's thankfully devoid of people. In fact, the entire house is rather quiet thanks to the festivities out in the backyard, and it's with incredible speed that he has you holed up in the guest bathroom, door locked behind you both.

You're working at the belt of your jeans before he can even turn back toward you, but he doesn't let you get far, a squeal leaving your lips as he expertly lifts you onto the counter. He fuses his lips to yours and settles between your spread legs, making you feel like you're a couple of teenagers sneaking away to make out. Only, with age, you've learned that what's about to happen in this bathroom will go a lot further than first base.

He takes his time though, working you up slowly until you're a whimpering mess in his arms. Your legs are crossed around behind him, holding his body against yours as his hands explore the expanse of your back. "Javi, come on," you plead and you reach for his own belt as you try to speed along the process.

"Uh uh," he shakes his head, slowly trailing down your jaw and to your shoulder, where his teeth nip at the soft skin he finds there. "We're gonna take it nice and slow today. Don't wanna wear ourselves out, us being old and all."

It's a low blow, but it makes you laugh, your forehead falling against his shoulder as he continues to mark you, well aware that you won't be able to hide the evidence of your rendezvous when you go back outside.

Still, you try to urge him along, your palm finding the bulge in his too-tight jeans. "You never liked going slowly when you were younger," you tease, and for just a moment he pauses, pulling back to look at you with renewed energy.

"You're gonna regret saying that," he warns, but you only smile. There's always been a hint of challenge with your husband, and you've never backed down before, so you're not about to now, especially not when he's already tugging at the waistband of your jeans. He urges you just far enough off the counter to tug them down your legs, panties following suit as he drops down before you.

"And you're gonna hurt your knees like..."

The remaining words are lost on your lips when his tongue traces through your folds. There's no edge to the counter to grip, so you settle for his curls. They're longer now than when you first met him, speckled with grey, and he moans slightly when you tug against the strands to help guide his motion.

Not that it makes much of a difference.

Javier knows you perhaps better than you know yourself, which means that he knows exactly how to play you. It's slow and sensual, the way he carefully adds a finger to the mix, dipping into your core at an agonizing pace. The second isn't far behind, curling inside of you as he latches onto your clit and urging you toward your first orgasm.

Only, just as you're about to crest over the top, he pulls back. You're about to yell at him when you remember where you are, the faint sound of someone in the kitchen downstairs preventing the curses from falling from your mouth. Javi, however, is smirking, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands, knees cracking in the process.

"I told you. Slowly."

Your eyes drift down to watch him unzip his jeans, tugging them down just far enough for his cock to spring free. He strokes himself with the hand he'd had inside you just moments earlier, smearing the precum already leaking from his tip along the shaft as you struggle to tear your eyes away.

Another loud bang downstairs causes you to flinch, Javi looking toward the door and then back at you, both of you laughing a moment later as he stands between your thighs once more. "I think you're gonna have to keep quiet, Cariño," he whispers against your lips, still smiling when he kisses you soundly.

When he pulls back it's to guide his length through your folds, gathering the evidence of your arousal before tapping the tip against your clit. You inhale, one hand already holding tight to his bicep as he lines himself up, the press of hic cock into your heat causing you to whine. He maintains his pace, even as you scoot closer to the edge of the counter, taking him deeper with each shift.

"Easy, baby," he soothes when he's seated fully, holding himself there even though you know it's killing him just as much as it's killing you. He moves soon after, setting a slow pace as he rocks into you.

You pull him into another kiss, eager for any kind of connection. His lips part, tongue matching yours in a battle until you've somehow encouraged him to go faster. With his hands settled at the small of your back, he brings you closer to the edge of the vanity so you're barely teetering on the edge. In turn, you wrap yourself around him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as he pounds into you.

He changes the angle one last time, hitting something devastating, and it's only a matter of seconds before you're biting into the flesh of his neck instead of screaming his name for the entire party to hear. Javier slows again, careful to keep himself seated inside while you ride through your release. "There's my girl," he whispers in your ear, hand running up and down your back as your body shudders in his grasp.

You kiss the mark you've left softly when you're ready for him to move again, and he does. Your release makes his movement easier, his cock sliding easily between your folds as he begins to chase after his own pleasure. You urge him on with soft whispers in his ear, more than content to simply feel the way he's losing control, all thoughts of going slowly long lost in his mind.

He comes with a groan that you swallow, your lips on his when his pace stutters. He spills into you with one final push, and you hold him tight against your body until he stills completely. Neither of you make an effort to move, both of you too sated to care.

But then you're laughing, giggling against him as a barely coherent thought pops into your brain.

Javi pulls back, gazing down at you softly, "what's so funny?"

"You know what never gets old?" you ask.

"What?" he returns, wrapping his arms around you with a smile already on his face.

You turn to kiss his jaw, matching your gaze with his as you respond. "This."

He's laughing then, too, both of you losing your breath for an entirely different reason. It's only when the sound of footsteps on the stairs echo through the room that you both stop. Javi's arms tighten around you as you both freeze. A soft knock sounds a moment later.

"I hope you two are almost finished in there," you sister-in-law whispers, "because the kids are asking where you are and I can only distract them for so long."

Her footsteps descend the stairs a moment later, and you let your forehead fall to rest against his shoulder again.

"I guess you were wrong," he says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he gently pulls back, already moving to clean you up, "turns out they will miss us if we disappear."

You smile. "Only because you took more than a few minutes, old man."

[karikarasuno]

shouto's pov

"i think we should get a divorce." a chill like nothing shouto's ever felt before ran straight down his spine. it danced in his stomach. it curled violently in his gut.

"is that what you want?" his tone didn't show a single sign of the dread that was currently tearing its way through him. suddenly everything sounded as if he were in a fishbowl. his ears were full of water. he was about to drown.

"no." a moment of relief. "but i think its what we need." dread again.

"ok, then."

shouto didn't fight for you and he regretted it. he didn't argue. he didn't beg. he didn't even ask why. he knew why. but he should have asked anyway. maybe sleep would come easier to him if he had.

your side of the bed stopped smelling like you months ago. a sick part of him wanted to order your perfume. buy your shampoo. just so that every time he tossed and turned the pillow that your head used to rest on would carry your scent and lull him into a sleep he only ever had when he was with you.

he still searched for you in his sleep. which he found odd because the last few months of your marriage he was hardly ever home. he practically lived at the hero agency. shouto thought that everything he did he was doing for you. but evidently that wasn't the case.

he regretted not hugging you one last time. his arms felt impossibly empty without you in them. this was harder than he expected. mostly because he thought you would come back. that you would realize this was a mistake. that you would miss him just as devastatingly as he missed you. that your world was nothing but ashes just like his. ashes that were left behind by his own flames.

shouto wanted to give you the house. but you refused. you said you wouldn't know what to do with a house so big on your own. he offered to give you the vacation home instead, but you declined that as well. it seemed as though you didn't want anything to do with him anymore. it closed his airways. it suffocated him. each breath was like choking on his tongue.

how could he have been so stupid? but you said it wasn't entirely his fault. you said that these things happen. that people outgrow each other. that seasons ended. started again. that flowers didn't bloom forever.

but he forgot to water you. he forgot to tilt you towards the sun. the flower was dying and he didn't know until you presented him with the shriveled up petals of something that was once so beautiful.

"how do you survive this?" he met izuku for dinner. it was good to get out. that was what he said at least. so shouto agreed. even though he really didn't want to go anywhere these days.

"what?" izuku sounded startled. he couldn't blame him.

"i'm not sure where to go from here. feels like i'm dying. like i can never catch my breath."

"one day you wake up and you'll take a deep breath," izuku paused, his own eyes becoming distant. "and your lungs will fill with air and it'll feel natural again. easier."

"when?"

izuku laughed bitterly. it was unlike him. but shouto saw a reflection of his soul in that laugh. "i wish i knew."

that evening shouto got into bed. lungs still empty. heart still broken. your pillow smelling like him. and he cried.

---

your pov

[laveens-pearl]

BUNNYMUNDxFEM!Human reader

A.k.a. -The Easter Adventure-

Summary: after falling asleep, reader randomly finds herself waking up in the realm of Easter and it’s grumpy Guardian who’s not at all excited to have a human strolling around three weeks before his favorite holiday

->the story does not follow the plot of the movie

HAPPY ENDING ( :33 my loves, will probs have more parts, but not yet)

WARNINGS: a grumpy bunny (for now)

Next chapter updated here:

Part One

It was a warm day somewhere around the end of March. The weather was warm as you got ready for bed, and the light spring breeze filled your heart.

The first results of the entrance exams were quite satisfactory and so maybe you didn’t have to worry yourself all over your head whether you’d be accepted at the far reaches of the world for university.

You’d fallen asleep quite fast, swaying in a mere, dark calmness, without the sheer idea of what would await you the next morning.

—-

You woke up to a warm breeze stroking your hair. It was quite calm, and fulfilling, and you smiled to yourself remembering how long it’s been since you’ve had such nice weather outside.

Turning to your side you brought your fingers to your face and… wait a minute. Was that grass?

Your eyes struck open at once, and you let out a surprised squeal.

This was definitely not your bed, not even close. It wasn’t even the same town, had someone asked you to guess.

Somehow, you were lying under the bright blue sky in a glazing, green field that seemed like it has just gotten torn from a pages of a fantasy book. Or a Pinterest board.

Lush, green trees, blooming flowers and mosh covered rocks surrounded you wherever you glanced, birds chirped between the leaves and the whole area carried an air of Spring with it.

You yawned a little, and stretched your arms.

The next thing you noticed was a weird.. stomping noise. You didn’t even realize as it came right from below you at first. The next moment you rolled back behind a smaller rock, breathing out a scream as you barely avoided being crushed flat by a huge, moving.. egg?

The thing was definitely a statue, with functioning legs, arms, and a happy face carved into the front.

You didn’t see any machine that could’ve operated it tho, nor people or anybody else around. Quite the opposite: the thing seemed to move completely on its own.

Your heart rate quickened, as you noticed even more statues brashly, but seemingly harmlessly marching along the field, and this time, the grumpy face carved into their backs caught your eyes as well. Could they change moods like dolls maybe?

When they finally passed, you peeked out from your hiding place, then slowly, and very carefully rose back, walking as soundlessly as possible as you tried to figure out where you were.

You’ve had lively dreams before, and while this wasn’t the worst ( man, the sights?!) it was definitely the weirdest one by far.

The thomping eggs weren’t too hard to miss, so you decided to follow them from a distance, as they marched down into a peaceful valley. During the stroll, you took in your surroundings, noticing even more eggs walking along other paths, and some lean, unusually huge flowers that hatched small white things which seemed to have a mind of their own too.

Everything was so unique around here that no matter how you tried, you couldn’t guess where or how you’d gotten hold of the idea of such a place. Not bad for a dream anyway.

You were so busy guessing you didn’t notice the small, white bundle peaking back up at you and so you murmured another small squeak as the little creature brushed past your ankles.

You were equally taken aback to notice it wasn’t some kind of plant as you’d previously thought. No, this was also an egg, finally a normal one, except for its small legs, that just ran past you like it was the most normal thing on earth.

-Okay, this is definitely mental..-

After a few moments, you decided you might as well wander around a little with the eggs, when a deep, crusty cough sounded behind you.

-Khm. Excuse me-you whipped your head around, and almost broke into another scream at the sight-Just what the hell are you doing here?

Look at who Lady Luck’s shining today: After the disturbingly huge amount of eggs, you seemed to have found their Guardian too.

Your mouth fell slightly agape as you stared at him:

Before you stood a walking, talking and seemingly quite angry bunny.

-Well how am I supposed to know? These dreams are random really-you retorted with a small, nervous chuckle glancing up at him-hello to you too.

The creatures you’d seen in dreams had never spoken to you before, nor had they tried to interview you.

His behavior wasn’t the only weird thing about this bunny though: he was tall, much taller than you, in a lean shape, standing confidently on two feet.

He had green eyes, and grey fur with black marks all over his body which, if they weren’t on an animal, you’d say looked like tattoos.

At your response he quirked a skeptical brow, because yes, he had those too, and took a step closer.

-A drea.. what? This is not a dream, it’s the Warren. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t step on my eggs-just as you were about to correct him another white little thingy appeared between your ankles and you instantly jumped a few feet away, entirely startled.

-The Warren? Now that’s an interesting name-you murmured thoughtfully, glancing around-I’d rather say Easter Egg Land.

When you noticed another cold glance from him you quickly decided to switch topics.

-What do you mean by your eggs? You believe you own this place?

You had to ask, this was a dream after all, and you were more than ready to inquire about the proprietor. He on the other hand didn’t seem to appreciate the effort.

Taking another step closer, he almost towered over you as his green eyes narrowed onto your small form.

-I don’t believe, i know-he murmured, his voice even deeper and more threatening than before-the only one who believes here is you, and it’s clearly in stupid things.

-Okay, now no need to be rude Mister-you huffed, crossing your arms, absentmindedly realizing you were still in your comfy pajamas-if nothing else, you owe me an explanation. I’d hardly know where I am otherwise.

He quirked his other brow as well, and a little smirk appeared on the corner of his lips. For some odd reason, it all made you feel like you were talking to a human and not a 6 foot tall, overly moody mammal.

-Since you’re the one who barged in here unannounced, I don’t feel like I owe you anything-he retorted, the hint of a smirk still playing on his lips.

You didn’t appreciate when people were rude to you in general, but his cocky behavior ignited the spark of rebellion in your teenage heart almost instantly. You looked back up at him with a defiant smirk of your own.

-Shall I ask one of your beloved eggs then?-turning on your heels, you started off towards a distant patch of grass in search of any creatures, but you didn’t get much further than where you stood before.

-No, don’t do that! Wait a damn minute-you heard his voice a little more startled and the next moment he jumped in front of you, faster than you’d have anticipated-‘kay fine. Just don’t touch the eggs, alright?

-Why, are they sensitive?-you teased, chuckling a little which he obviously didn’t appreciate.

-Yes they are, and I am too, so I advise you stop stomping around before I do something I’m going to regret-he sneered, staring sternly down at you.

-Fine-you mumbled, crossing your arms. This is still weird as hell-are you gonna answer me then?

He glanced at you dumbfounded for a moment before he groaned annoyed, muttering something inaudible.

-Yeah. My name’s Bunnymund, and as I’ve said, this is the Warren. Easter Egg Land, or whatever that is you said.

Your eyes became round from awe, as you glanced around, before gawking up at him.

-Bunnymund? As in the actual Easter Bunny?

He nodded, still seeming a little as someone who’s wandering about the mental state of their speaking partner. When you didn’t get any other responses you threw your hands in the air, chuckling in disbelief.

-The Easter Bunny.. this is fucking amazing! I don’t even remember the last time I dreamt something so close to reality!

Turning around, you glanced at the beautiful nature again, not paying much attention to him, as he hopped up next to you, seemingly even more disturbed.

-For the second time, this is not a dream-he corrected, crossing your path yet again to stop you from moving-And you could finally start telling how the hell you even got here.

-Woah, calm down a little, would you? Isn’t the Easter Bunny supposed to be all mushy and nice?-you rolled your eyes, your tone a little judgmental which got that cocky smirk on his face again.

-Yeah, to kids. And you’re not one.

-Ahww. Finally someone’s calling me an adult then-you cooed, quickly getting out of his way as you sneaked between two, beautiful trees with rose colored, blooming flowers.

-Who even said that? You’re not an adult, you’re a distraction and a quite annoying one about that-you heard him groan behind you, and annoyingly, in mere seconds he was hopping next to you yet again.

-I’ll have you know, I’m eighteen and a half-you perked up at him sternly-I can’t even believe I’m arguing with a bunny about any of this.

The Bunny just rolled his eyes, clearly unaffected.

-Who cares, you’re clearly old enough not to believe in Easter, and therefore not to stick your nose in any of my business!

-Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed whatever noble cause you’re fulfilling, but I can’t help you until you actually tell me what it is-you huffed, yet again and he ran his along his lean, fluffy ears as someone who’s about to burst in flames.

-Help would actually be if you just disappeared-he retorted without the least amount of courtesy-Easter is in three weeks, I don’t have time for delusional strangers!

-Excuse you, I’m not delusional, it’s just a dream, and you’re clearly exaggerating!-you spat back, stomping a little on your feet because it felt as if you actually lacked the physical proprieties.

He was probably about to remind you of that but before he could speak up, you interrupted him: -Don’t worry though. It’s ought to be morning soon, and I’ll wake up.

He seemed to wonder for another moment whether he should correct you, but then he just shrugged, taking a step back and crossed his arms.

-Whatever, just be gone by morning-he stated plainly, and the next moment he was already hopping away without any form of goodbye-and DON’t touch the eggs!

-It was nice to meet you too asshole!-you retorted, screaming back but you didn’t get an answer this time.

Okay, this may be a horrible dream after all. A little disturbed, you turned on your heels going back to where you came from: whatever, in a few moments you’ll wake up, and you never have to see whatever this guy was, ever again.